Missing Moments: The Borgias
by Ibaraz
Summary: This story will include so-called 'missing moments' from the show 'The Borgias' and mainly focus on the complicated relationship between Lucrezia and Cesare, though other characters will be included down the line.
1. The Demon Defeated

**Missing Moments: The Borgias**

_A/N: Cesare and Lucrezia, as portrayed by Francois Arnaud and Holliday Grainger on The Borgias, are two of the most intriguing characters on TV right now. If anyone out there haven't watched The Borgias, I suggest you get out there and watch it!_

_I thought it fitting now that the show has been prematurely cancelled to write the moments that never were and the moments in between. _

_This story will be composed of 'missing moments' from the show that concerns the siblings one way or another. Other characters will probably appear in the 'Missing Moments' to come. And be warned, future chapters will most probably include the incest._

Disclaimer: I own nothing about this glorious family. If I had, there would have been a concluding season 4. Neil Jordan, Showtime and the rest own 'The Borgias'.

_Spoilers: 2x09__  
_

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**The Demon Defeated**

Lucrezia gazed deep into her glass and watched the dark wine swirl with every movement of her hand. As it flowed back and forth, she entertained the thought that it was the blood of the guilty that rested in her hand. The blood of Giovanni and Catherina Sforza, Giuliano della Rovere and perhaps even that of her brother, Juan Borgia. Blood forced to bend to her will as long as she controlled the glass which contained it. Blood which could only escape from its strange captivity if she consumed it all.

With a greed she'd only recently realized she possessed, Lucrezia sipped from the red wine.

That was not the entire truth, she knew. She was a Borgia, after all. Greed and ambition ran in her veins and was as much a part of her as her heart or soul. Her recent realization had not been the possession of said greed, but rather the knowledge that it came with a dark satisfaction she could only explain to well. After everything – all the trials and tests - she had been put through, was it even a wonder she'd evolved into this woman?

Once upon a time her father – Pope Alexander VI – and her dearest brother – Cesare – had seen in her an innocent angel. Someone fragile and pure in their world of deception and lies within the walls of the Vatican. Yet, during the past year they had begun to behold her in a different light entirely. Their perception of her as a flawless innocent had dwindled in their passionate eyes. They now looked upon her exactly how she desired and how she felt. No longer an angel, but all the more a true Borgia bull. Just like them.

If she was completely honest with herself, Lucrezia rather enjoyed the persona she had made for herself these past few years since her father had become Pope. Giulia Farnese had taught her to use her beauty and intelligence as her most formidable weapons, and with this knowledge she had left the child behind and grown into someone to fear and respect.

In being a woman, Lucrezia controlled her greatest advantage; every man underestimated her abilities and ambitions.

The thought alone almost made her laugh to herself. If only her enemies could guess the lengths to which she would go to defend her family; in particular her lovely son Giovanni and her brother Cesare.

_Cesare_…

Lucrezia gazed about the grand, darkened room in which she sat in complete solitude. This was _his_ private chamber and everything about it seemed to echo his name in the night. The giant bed with its dark purple covers, the richly embroidered seats by the fire place and the mahogany bureau on the other end of the room, in which he surely kept some of his guarded secrets from the world he distrusted. Her eyes were drawn to his Cardinal's cross which hung across the back of a chair. The gems upon it sparkled like liquid metal from the nearby heat of the flames.

The flames on the extravagant jewelry, too, seemed like blood to Lucrezia. This came as no surprise to her. Her brother was all the Borgia bull and fallen angel she was. Even he, a man of the church, hid secrets of glistening blood which he could never speak aloud, not even to her. Then again, he didn't need to, for she could always read her brother like she could read herself.

For example, there was tonight. Only hours earlier, while the evening had still been quite young, Lucrezia had argued with Juan over 'family matters'. She had never, nor could ever; forgive her brother for what he had done to her innocent Paolo. Juan knew this, of course, yet all he had done was smile smugly as she had scolded him for it. When she was done he had simply explained that everything he did was 'for the good of the family'. The tantalizing words had seemed almost mocking as they had passed his lips. It was at once both a reprimand and a curse from his behalf. The words had struck her heart and while she had thought she could never detest him more, she had been in for a vicious surprise.

In a drunken madness, Juan had lifted her baby from his crib and had then basically dangled him over a railing. The mere thought of it still made Lucrezia's blood boil as it pumped through her slim body. After she had rescued Giovanni from the hands of her personal devil, she would have gladly surrendered herself to her inner Borgia bull and ended Juan then and there. But she had suppressed her dark needs within her heart as Cesare had whispered words of reassurance to her. Cesare had said there would be no blood during the night, but even in his eyes she had seen the same dark need which was reflected in hers.

It was this reason alone that had brought her to his private chamber in this late hour. Lucrezia was not entirely certain what hour of the day it was, but judging by the darkness of the seemingly endless night still outside, there were still many hours before the first light of day.

Still, when Lucrezia had left her sleeping son in her own chambers and silently walked to her brother's room, she had not been surprised to find his room empty. The only life inside had been from the fire and she had patiently settled down beside it to wait for her brother.

She had waited a long time already by now and the glass in her hand was her second helping of wine. With her greed, even this glass was beginning to empty. As she pondered rising from her seat to pour a third glass, her thoughts were interrupted as the heavy, wooden door suddenly flung open with a low creaking noise.

Lucrezia waited on baited breath as she watched her tall, dark brother, still fully dressed and wearing a cloak, enter and firmly close the door behind him. The hood of his cloak was up and so hid his handsome face from her view, but she didn't need to see it. She still read the rest of his body language like a book in her library. His movements were heavy and tense and his hands rested for a beat longer against the door. Even his deep breath seemed to resonate between the stone walls as he turned his back to where she sat and walked towards the table further away.

Still without having taken notice of her, Cesare discarded his cloak in a blur of fervent moves and threw the fabric onto the table with something Lucrezia could only call angered relief.

"I thought you might be out tonight."

Cesare stopped, startled, and swiftly whirled around. The surprise in his night-colored eyes danced side by side with something ominous in the deep, bottomless pools. Lucrezia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but as she saw the tense frown spread on his brow, she recognized it at last. He was attempting to shut her out from the inner circles of his heart and struggled to make sure she could not read his latest dark deed. It was all in vain, of course.

"Will you not ask me why I expected you to be out, brother?" she teased him, waiting to see if he would take the bait.

Cesare's frown intensified as he refused to take the hook. Something dark and daring crossed his eyes as he muttered, "You always know what I am up to, sis… Even when I am not so certain myself."

"Do not frown, Cesare," she smiled and her voice danced clear like church bells in the morning, "It contorts your handsome face."

"Sister…" he bowed his head as if to obey her command and his voice was dark and raspy, like always these days.

Though there was nothing gentle in it, Lucrezia could still hear affection in his tone. She smiled to herself. Even emotionally distraught as he was, he could neither hide nor forget his love for her. She loved him, if possible, even more for it.

For a second longer, the two siblings simply stared at the other through the silent tension that lingered from his arrival. A battle of will and of love kept them both apart and together in the night. At length, it was Cesare who first lowered his gaze from hers, but the defeat seemed gratefully accepted. Lucrezia knew in that exact moment that she had been right to follow her hunch tonight and venture into this lion's den.

She exhaled deeply and leaned further back in her seat as she let the realization wash over her like waves crashing against a beach. _It was all true then_. She mutely watched as Cesare turned back to the table and poured himself a glass of wine.

"More wine, sis?" he turned his head to gaze at her once more. In his fair face, framed by his dark locks, the knowledge of his sister's cunning and intellect shone bright. Now that it was plain to see, Lucrezia felt that he had, at least for this particular time, welcomed her into the darkest circle of his heart to share this night with her.

"Please," the woman smirked, raised her glass expectantly and waited to be served. As he crossed the room in slow, confident steps, it seemed all his previous anxiety, too, had vanished the second he knew she understood and unconditionally supported him in this.

As he filled her glass and more of the dark liquid danced within her glass, Lucrezia mockingly asked, "Are we celebrating tonight, my love?"

He chuckled as he sank into the seat opposite her and stared into the fires beside them. "Yes."

"Then what shall we toast for?" she asked.

Cesare pondered the question briefly as he watched the wine in his glass. The smile widened upon his lips, making his face look both angelic and damned at the same time, as he raised his gaze to meet his sister's once more. "We shall toast that tonight I have defeated my demon."

Lucrezia hesitated. "You mean you have defeated _our_ demon?"

The smile vanished from his passionate eyes as he nodded. "… Yes. You and your son are safe now."

"I will drink to that."

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_More chapters to come! Stay tuned!  
Review if you like! _


	2. Seating Arrangements

_A/N: Across tumblr and other fan forums, I have noticed a widespread desire to have Lucrezia seated on Cesare's lap at a public event. I suppose this chapter came about mainly due to the influence of this idea. Granted, this might not have been entirely what was talked about, but this is the way I envisioned such a possible scenario. Since it does not 'belong' to a specific episode, it is not necessarily a 'missing moment' but still a moment I desired to write._

_Spoilers: Just 1x02, I believe._

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**Seating Arrangements**

Cesare Borgia glanced about the grand hall, decorated to the brim with extravagant, beautiful flowers and fake coins aplenty to please the crowds.

It had been only a fortnight since his father had been elected Pope and tonight the good Rodrigo had chosen to throw a special 'Feast of Prosperity'. The celebration had been cleverly constructed to mimic the promises the new Pope had made to his 'herd' and though only the nobility and the College of Cardinals were invited into the Palace, the people on the streets had been given food and wine also.

Cesare had to hand it to his father, this was indeed a well-executed plan to please and deceive those who needed pleasing and deceiving. After the 'scandal' of the election, much was needed to smooth over the imperfections that lingered in the Vatican. There were still some angry Cardinals who believed Rodrigo had bought many votes (indeed, Cardinal della Rovere had opted not to appear for the celebrations at all), but even most of these grumpy faces seemed dimmed with wine and delicious food this evening.

Rodrigo had ordered his four bastard children, whom he openly acknowledged, and his mistress, Giulia Farnese, to be on their best behavior for this spectacular event. From where he stood, the eldest Borgia boy figured none did their family more justice than his younger sister Lucrezia.

She shone more radiant than the evening star in her pale blue dress with golden details. Even though she was but fourteen years old, Lucrezia seemed to possess a vibrant personality which charmed even the most sour of Cardinals. It was her innocence and untainted youth, Cesare knew, that drew everyone to her like moths to a single, shining flame. It was no surprise to him that their father, too, showed her off tonight as if she was his most precious gem.

As if sensing her brother's gaze, Lucrezia whirled around in that moment and as she found him with her eyes, her entire face erupted into a wide grin. It was the one of a kind, brilliant smile she reserved especially for him, Cesare knew. She waved at him and the young man could but stupidly wave back, before his sister turned back once more to dutifully cling to her father's waiting arm.

"Jealous, brother?" a murky voice muttered from his left and Cesare turned his head enough to see the bearer of said tone. Juan Borgia, dressed in brown and white, leaned casually by one of the pillars by his side. It seemed he was at ease with the world tonight, but his eyes shone a darker tale he could not hide from his brother.

Cesare frowned. "What is there to be jealous about tonight?"

The younger brother nodded his head in their sister's direction and took a sip from his chalice of wine. "Our angelic sister. See how she _woos_ the lords… Does it not affect you to see how father portrays her tonight?"

The elder brother shrugged and sipped from his own chalice as he turned to face Juan again. "It is father's decision. Besides, any joy of Lucrezia's, is shared in equal parts by me. I could never envy her."

Juan snorted as if his brother had entirely missed the point he'd made. His dark eyes sparkled with mirth as he pushed away from the pillar and threw one arm across Cesare's broader frame. For any outsider, the image must have looked filled with love and brotherly devotion, but both men knew the truth which simmered just beneath the surface in both their hearts.

In a somewhat slurred tongue, the younger man whispered, "I meant jealousy towards those who she greets tonight. Look at their smiles, cardinals and lords alike. She enchants them, almost like a witch. I am certain more than one of them-"

"I think you've had enough wine for tonight, Juan," the elder brother interrupted fiercely.

The younger Borgia snorted as he defiantly sipped from his chalice and his passionate eyes held Cesare's captive. As he lowered the cup, Juan smiled. For a second, he fooled his brother into believing it was genuine affection. Then he pushed away from Cesare and patted his shoulder one final time. "Come, brother, the show is about to start."

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The tables in the main hall were arranged so that the center part of the grand, decorated hall became like a stage for the performers. As the Borgia family and most of the cardinals headed for the designated seats at the end of the hall, the rest of the guests lined up along the walls to watch the show with intrigued gazes. In the middle of the make-shift stage stood several young women prepared, dressed in thin, flowing dresses reminiscent of Ancient Rome. Further on the side, the musicians were patiently awaiting their turn to start.

Cesare watched the beautiful ladies as he sank into his seat on the right side of the Pope's grand chair. Juan sank onto the chair on his right and proceeded to fill his chalice with more red wine. The elder brother was unable to hide his amused snort but pretended not to notice the dirty look Juan threw him. Instead, Cesare watched as their father led their shining, younger sister and Giulia towards the table also. As Rodrigo and Giulia took their places next to Cesare, the young, blonde girl strolled past their seats and came to stand between her brothers.

The sparkle had diminished somewhat in her wide, grey eyes as she rested her arm against the head of Juan's seat. She turned to her brother to address him bluntly but with quiet, dulcet tones. Even as her voice scolded him, her full lips lied with a smile. Even in this situation, she knew how to play the political game and not give anyone reason to talk of enmity between the siblings. "You are in my seat, Juan."

Her brother shrugged and didn't even glance up at the angel which hovered over his left shoulder. "And?"

"_My_ seat," she repeated stubbornly and such a gentle scold reminded both her brothers of her exact age. Despite all her cunning, she was still just a stubborn child at times. "I want it back."

Her brother snorted unkindly but let a smile grace his lips also as their father nodded for the musicians to commence. Sweet music floated through the air and Juan watched the dancers before him intently as they started to sway in beat to the tunes. "Surely you can last one evening without sitting next to Cesare, dear sister?"

Lucrezia's face contorted in a frown. "But why must you sit there?"

"Because you can see the spectacle much better from here."

"You mean you can better see the women you want to claim as whores," Lucrezia whispered dryly and Juan choked on his wine. Beside them, Cesare stifled a chuckle and covered it behind his own chalice. Most assuredly, their younger sister was far too clever and quick for such a young girl.

As Juan threw his siblings a dirty glare, the elder cleared his throat and gazed up at his sister. He took her pale, smooth hand in his own and gently tugged on it. "Come, Lucrezia, do not bother with our most impossible brother. You may sit with me."

Her face shone bright once more with her wide, genuine smile as she turned to him. With the grace of a young lady, she climbed onto his lap and settled in nicely as Cesare circled her waist with his strong arms. As he embraced her and held her tight to his chest, she sighed contently and snuggled closer to him. Cesare, too, exhaled gently and leaned his chin against her shoulder as they turned to watch the dance.

By their side, the eldest Borgia noticed how their brother's attention had entirely left the spectacle before them and instead glared at his comfortable siblings. After a minute of strained silence, in which the harmonic music filled the void of their conversation, Juan had clearly reached his breaking point. As he glanced across the room briefly, he at last leaned closer to them.

With a dark, raspy voice, he hissed, "You cannot be serious, Cesare?"

"Sometimes I can be, brother," the elder Borgia retorted slowly and took great satisfaction in the small giggle he heard escape past his sister's full lips.

Juan lowered his voice further and as he continued, his eyes darkened with each words that past his lips, "She cannot sit on your lap. Only two weeks after father's appointment as _Holy Father_ and you already desire to cause a scandal?"

"We are Spanish, no? We show our love for our family in public," Cesare countered with a devilish smirk. His arms. which already embraced his slim sister, pressed her closer to his chest in order to emphasize his point. "Where's the scandal in that?"

Juan merely huffed in response and rolled his eyes in defeat. Whatever his thoughts were he decided not to voice them aloud, though both Lucrezia and Cesare could hear it as if he had screamed it in their faces. In truth, both of them were aware of the glances from the College of Cardinals or one of the invited Lords, but neither cared for their judgement. Besides, their trusting father didn't seem to take any notice of their behavior.

Lucrezia and Cesare ignored everyone else and simply watched the performance in front of them, which was swiftly approaching its crescendo. The women danced in intricate circles before them and the music was more frantic and flowing than before as it followed the dancers every move and graceful leaps.

After a few seconds of simply watching, Lucrezia tilted her head back and whispered into her brother's attentive ear, "Can we not have these seating arrangements always?"

"Why do you say that, sis?" he whispered back and her face lingered close to his, her nose barely gracing the top of his cheek bone.

She smiled sweetly at him, "Because it is quite comfortable… and it seems to upset our dear brother."

Cesare chuckled. "As good of an excuse as any."

On their right, Juan glared at his happy siblings one last time before he downed the last of his wine.

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_Review if you like!_


	3. The Night Before Her Wedding

_AN: New chapter. Still sticking to the earlier days of the show and this takes places the night before Lucrezia's marriage to Giovanni Sforza. I am considering writing a follow up piece with the night before her marriage to Alfonso d'Aragona, too. We'll see! Hope you enjoy it, either way!_

Spoilers: 1x03, 1x04

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**The Night Before Her Wedding**

The night was still young in the city of Rome, and it was the time of day Cesare had grown to love the most. That moment of twilight when the first stars lit up on the endless skies above and glimmered down at the world from their heavenly thrones. Sometimes to mock, but most often simply to curiously peak down at the people below.

This day, however, not even the beautiful shadows of nightfall could alter his mood for the better. Tonight was, after all, a very special night, the last of its kind in more ways than one. There was nothing bright about the stars this evening because of it. Cesare wished things could remain exactly as they were today, and never go beyond the inevitable sunrise of tomorrow.

With solemn, firm strides the Borgia man walked through the corridors of the Vatican with one simple target in mind. Because of the hour, he met few people on his route and even those he met simply stepped aside to let him pass without any question. Sometimes, being the son of the Pope had its advantages.

At last, he reached his goal and gazed up at the closed wooden door before him. With a heavy sigh, he raised a hand and gently knocked on the wood. "Are you still awake, dear sister?"

Her voice echoed bright through the door, "I am."

Cesare didn't need more of an invite as he opened the door and stepped inside. Lucrezia stood before him, clad in her nightdress and a beautiful, pale robe on top. Her hair was down and her long, blonde locks flowed around her. It was almost as if she was a siren of the old legends, come to claim him as her own. For the first time, her beauty pained his eyes and Cesare appreciated the moment when he managed to turn and closed the door behind him.

Slowly, he turned back around to face her. Her ivory skin was paler than normal and there was something mysterious in her big, childish eyes. He could see it in her already, though he didn't much like to acknowledge the truth. She had already begun to change with the world. It was a means to survive, after all. She, too, knew that changes had to be made from here on, and simply tried to remain one step ahead of the world around her. He still hated it, though. He would much prefer to screw everyone else over if only Lucrezia could remain entirely as she was right now. A part of him even hated his father for deciding to marry the family's most precious treasure to another family. Though it had been an anticipated move, Cesare still wondered how Rodrigo could be so cruel. Could he not see that she belonged with them, her family, and no one else?

"I'm nervous, Cesare," Lucrezia breathed suddenly and with that simply, low plea pulled her brother from his darker thoughts.

The man sighed and nodded in understanding as he slowly walked closer. With each step, he was pulled towards her and there was no escaping her call. A true siren, indeed. As he reached her side, Cesare reached out for his sister. He squeezed her small hand once and his touched lingered before he walked past her.

"To think… Tomorrow I will be someone's wife," she mused in a low voice and her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her robe.

"I'd rather _not_ think about it," Cesare muttered as he sank into an armchair by the window and gazed outside. Ironically enough, no glimmering stars greeted him from above as he gazed at the heavens above. He couldn't quite decipher the meaning of this, but was still sure it was a sign of some kind.

"Are you not pleased with this match, brother? Father says Giovanni Sforza is a noble lord."

Cesare pondered her words thoroughly. He decided to withhold the truth of his exact thoughts about this upcoming union. He knew there would be no lord whom he would find worthy of his precious sister, and somehow he figured the elder Sforza man was in the bottom options nonetheless. "I am pleased if you are, sis."

Lucrezia bit her bottom lip gently as thoughts swirled clearly through her grey eyes. At length, she raised her gaze to meet his and commented, "Then you are pleased if father tells you to be."

Her brother chuckled dryly. So she understood the game then, just as he feared. "Yes."

He heard his sister release the deepest sigh he had ever heard pass her lips. With a grim look on her face, she sank onto the edge of the bed and faced him. Their eyes met across the night's abyss and in the other's eyes they saw their own sadness reflected.

"I think I am afraid, Cesare…" Lucrezia admitted and her eyes once more fell from his.

"Of what, sis?"

Her voice was at once frail and strong, scared and brave, "Of being unhappy."

"Don't be afraid, my love," Cesare whispered back. "You don't ever need to be afraid of that while you have me."

She managed a small smile even as her eyes danced with unshed tears. With conviction and trust, she whispered, "I read the story of Héloïse and Abélard yesterday... Why did you not tell me the end of their love?"

The man sighed and leaned back in his seat to contemplate his own response once more. "Because there was no end to it, sister. There never will be."

"But he left her."

"Perhaps in body, but never in spirit, my love," Cesare disagreed. "He did what he had to do to protect his loved one."

Lucrezia nodded in acceptance of his explanation, but still he noticed the fright had not fled from her eyes. She gazed at him for a long second before she managed the question which he hoped she already knew the answer to, "You won't ever leave me… will you?"

"_Never_," Cesare promised as he rose from his seat, crossed the room and knelt by her side. It pained him to see his young sister so utterly lost that she even had to question about his love for her. If there was one thing he never wanted her to fear, it was his true and deep affection. Lucrezia reached for his hands and clutched them tight in her lap and at once Cesare knew she was reassured once more. Her worst fear had subsided and she was not as lost as before. Her thumbs slowly stroked the back of his hands and it seemed she became almost entranced by the rhythm of the movements.

"Then you must come visit me. Often!" she begged and the hopeful smile spread on her full lips.

Her brother sighed as he gazed down at their entwined hands. "I… am afraid that won't be possible. Father has asked me to remain in Rome, with him. He says he needs me here."

"But _I _need you, too!" she pleaded.

"I know, my love. But do not fret; nothing can keep us parted for long."

"We're never parted, at all," Lucrezia disagreed and placed one of her slender hands over his heart. "Never in spirit, was it?"

Cesare smiled, but it was a feat of pain and lies. Her words were sweet, too sweet than what he deserved. And her childish love only reminded him how young she still was. She was right, of course, but their lives had barely begun and there was so much left to happen to them both. So much that could make or break them as siblings.

A frightened frown spread across Lucrezia's fair features as she noticed the truth in his eyes and silently Cesare cursed her abilities to read him like a book. As a lone tear found its solitary road down her fair cheek, Cesare whispered, "My love, what is wrong?"

"… Nothing, brother."

"_Lucrezia_-"

"Let us not talk of it anymore," she begged and sniffled. Her hand reached up to wipe away her tear but could not make the streak of sadness disappear entirely. Lucrezia cleared her throat and before her brother could open his mouth, she swiftly changed the subject to another fear close to her heart, "I must confess something else to you, dearest brother. I am afraid I will never forgive father for not allowing mother to be present for the ceremony tomorrow. It is my wedding day, and I cannot understand the cruelty by which he decided this. It's breaking my heart, Cesare, to think…" her voice broke and she was unable to complete the sentence as more tears sprung to her eyes.

At once, Cesare moved from the floor to sit by her side on the bed. His arm enveloped hers and pulled her close to him, to keep her safe and ease the pain he knew was shared by both. As she sobbed into his shoulder, one of her hands came up to cling to his shirt. The man gently hushed her and rocked them back and forth as her sorrow slowly subsided.

"This is the night before your wedding, it's supposed to be a joyous one," Cesare mused and felt relieved to hear her chuckle in response. "Not one filled with sorrow and fright."

Lucrezia sniffled one final time before she pulled away slightly from him so that her eyes could look into his. With raw, honest love shining within her gaze, she gently asked of him, "Will you kiss me, brother? If this is to be my last night of childhood, I desire to have one last taste of true, innocent love."

Cesare smiled and leaned closer to obey her wish. There was nothing he would deny her, least of all this. It was a tender and sweet kiss, like the morning dew on the meadow, and it was the only comfort he could offer her tonight. As he pulled back, her head came to rest against his shoulder once more. After a few peaceful minutes, Cesare stood from the bed and gentle tugged on Lucrezia's hands to follow.

He led her over to the side of the bed, pulled back the covers and watched as she crawled into bed before he tucked her in. She smiled up at him and Cesare was relieved to see all traces of sorrow had been erased at last. He pressed one final kiss to her forehead and whispered, "Now, I must bid you goodnight."

"So soon?" her voice was reluctant and filled with emotion as she frowned up at him.

"You need your sleep tonight, sister, if you are to be made a bride tomorrow," Cesare smiled tightly as he rose and walked towards the exit of this safe haven of theirs.

When he had almost reached the door, her words pulled him right back, like a hook might a fish. "I would sleep better if you remained here with me tonight. I always did sleep safer with you beside me. _Please_…"

Cesare turned back around and gazed at the young woman in bed. With an impish grin, she pulled back the covers on the other half of the bed. With a tender smile of his own, her brother returned to her, as he always would. "Then I shall stay right here."

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_More to come!_


	4. Micheletto's Task

_A/N: A short episode from Micheletto's point of view. Another fine character I am sure to miss. Whether or not I did him justice is for you to judge. Either way, he was fun to write for. Hope you enjoy even this piece!_

_Spoilers: 3x05_

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**Micheletto's Task**

"Milady." The red-haired man bowed deeply as he saw the beautiful woman before him. As the sun had recently risen above the horizon, the shadows were still long and daunting upon the earth. As Lucrezia Borgia, clad in deepest red and her blonde locks up in an intricate hairstyle, stepped across the floor of the terrace, she stepped in and out of one long shadow after another as she approached the man-servant.

Further away, the city of Naples was just awakening to the light of the new day and somewhere higher up on the hill rang a dull church bell. Down in the courtyard below the terrace, several horses were being prepared and the smell of hay lingered on the air. On the other end of the courtyard stood several eager men, among them King Ferdinand and Alfonso d'Aragona, who were chatting amiably together.

"Going somewhere, Micheletto?" Lucrezia's voice was clear but not necessarily curious enough to match her question. Instead it carried the tune of someone who already held the answers. Much alike she who gazes at a locked door, aware that she holds the key to it in her hands.

"I'm going hunting, milady, with the king and your husband," the man explained with his own hoarse voice. "I was asked to accompany them on their boar hunt. To help keep them safe."

"Hunting?" this time the tune was most certainly intrigued as it danced through the morning like a bright harp. She came to a halt a few steps ahead of him and briefly glanced behind her at the men further away.

Micheletto inclined his head as she turned her attention back to him. "Yes, milady. A dangerous game."

The lady hesitated a beat as a look of understanding spread through her clever eyes. The look made her otherwise soft and almost childlike features seem harsh and cold. Micheletto knew of only one other, the lady's elder brother, who could transform their face so entirely from light to dark with no effort, as if being well acquainted with both heaven and hell and could not entirely make a distinction between the two.

With a haughty smirk, Lucrezia acquiesced, "…It is, indeed."

Micheletto waited a beat but when no further questions were asked, he bowed his head and turned to pass her to join the hunting party. He had but stepped with one foot into the shadows ahead, before her dulcet tones stopped him in his tracks. "Why are you doing this, Micheletto?"

The man-servant now stood but an arm's length away from her, and slowly turned his gaze to meet hers once more. "Of what do you speak, milady?"

She threw him a pointed glare, yet her full lips still smiled at him with genuine warmth. There it was again, Micheletto thought, the look of both heaven and hell. "You know what I mean."

Cesare Borgia's last words to him echoed clear in Micheletto's head.

'…_And you make sure nothing happens to her, do you understand? Nothing. That includes her own actions. She will want blood for all that has transpired and for losing the battle of her son. Make sure her hands remain untainted in what is most assuredly inevitable, Micheletto. In any way you seem fit…' _

"… Because your brother asked me to."

"He asked you to keep me safe…?" her voice trailed off, as if she desired to ask something else entirely about his deal with her brother. Still, she showed great restraint as she merely let the question dance in the murky depths of her grey eyes.

Micheletto had long ago realized the siblings were far more similar than people gave them credit, and so assumed this lady desired the same honesty her brother would have expected. "Yes. _With any means possible_."

"I see…" the lady smiled to herself and her eyes lowered from his momentarily, but soon locked with his again. It was something Micheletto greatly admired about the fair lady. Others saw him as a brutal monster, a beast to be loathed, and therefor were intimidated to hold his gaze for long. Lucrezia Borgia, on the other hand, saw the same as everyone else, but boldly held his gaze without fear. He had heard her described often as a sweet lady, but Micheletto had known the first moment she firmly held his gaze that she was much more than that. Any woman who dared stare into the eyes of the devil had at least seen hell once before in life, and not feared the fires ahead. Her face spoke of the angels, but her eyes whispered of dark desires.

The fair lady tilted her head gently to the side and smiled up at the taller man. "You know, you are my only link to him now."

Micheletto nodded once. "Yes, milady."

A sad smile played across her full lips as her eyes, too, betrayed the sadness of her heart. She seemed less than whole, and Micheletto knew there was no action of his which could bring her peace on this front. At last, she admitted, "… I miss him. Terribly, at times."

"Yes, milady," the red-haired man breathed in a low voice as his eyes gazed around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their private conversation. As far as he could see, her husband and the King of Naples were still blissfully ignorant on anything outside their own little world. "If I know your brother as well as I think I do, I am certain he feels the same about being parted from you."

"Perhaps…" she mused, but her voice lost its joyful spring for a second before she managed to cover the truth. As her smile returned, the man saw a new wall raised within her eyes that merely increased the frost he had lately seen gather around her heart. For whatever reason, he could not help but hope she was not entirely lost to the darkness which her brother already wielded with such prowess. It seemed, however, that the path of the angels was not to be for either sibling.

"We must stay together, you and I, Micheletto. There's no one else in this wretched nest of thorns whom I can truly trust."

"What of your husband?"

The lady snorted in great amusement as she turned around and faced the men on the other end of the courtyard. She raised her hand and gently waved it in her husband's direction. On the receiving end, Alfonso returned the wave with a warm grin of his own. The sparkle to Lucrezia's eyes remained warm a second longer before her husband looked away to engage his cousin in conversation. At once, the lady tilted her head closer to Micheletto and whispered, "As I said… _No one else_."

The man-servant bowed his head one final time to acknowledge her point. It was not his place to question further and so Micheletto wisely kept his lips tightly shut. It was not that he was quietly judging, but rather the complete opposite. He would happily follow her brother to the grave and beyond if asked to do so. Since Lucrezia was as much a part of Cesare Borgia as she was of him, Micheletto knew he would go to great lengths for her well-being also. He held no such allegiances to any other that currently walked on the face of the Earth, nor would he ever for anyone else.

For now, Micheletto knew exactly where he was to begin. A great injustice had been done to the young lady, that needed to be avenged. The separation of her beloved baby was not something he looked upon with kind eyes. And at least in this case he could help her find some peace. This was, after all, exactly in his line of expertise.

"I must be off," the man-servant excused himself as he stepped forward. "The hunting party will leave without me if I do not."

"Oh, and Micheletto?" the red-head slowly turned around. Lucrezia's dark smirk returned. " …Happy hunting."

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	5. Vengeance

_A/N: I always found 2x03 to be a very interesting episode. Not least of all because of the well-acted scenes between Lucrezia and Juan, but also I think it was a great character study about how the entire family almost fell apart when Lucrezia grieved. Still, what I loved most was to see the darkness of Lucrezia evolve. I always found it interesting that she let the chandelier fall and presumably kill a woman, but we never saw any fallout with this. Even though I don't think Lucrezia felt any remorse about it, I would have loved to see her reaction to her own first kill, as well as Cesare's first reaction to it. That's why I chose to write this chapter, and hope I did it somewhat justice._

_Spoilers: 2x03_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

**Vengeance**

Lucrezia gazed across the crib at her elder brother. Cesare's face was contorted in a dark frown even as he looked down at the tiny hand which firmly gripped his larger, rougher finger. It was the grip of the young of the elder, the pure of the impure. Lucrezia had heard the whispers, of course, of what her brother had performed in the shadows and the permanent marks his actions left on their world. To see that this rumored monster charmed her young son convinced her that the man's soul was not yet lost. He still had a beating heart within his strong chest and the blessed ring of a Cardinal around his proud finger. Still, Lucrezia was well aware that her darling brother did not see these truths as she did. She had noticed how Cesare had gradually stopped loving himself as he'd started down the road less traveled. So afraid of his own darkness, he had not stopped to realize this made him almost a martyred saint in his sister's intelligent eyes.

As she returned her gaze down to her baby a sharp pain pierced her heart, much like a knife plunged into the depths of her life's source. It was not the first time she'd felt this indescribable ache, and she had almost grown accustomed to its constant presence within her chest.

Giovanni was all that now remained of her carefree time with Paolo, the stable boy she had once loved. The young man had been beautiful and sweet – her own Narcissus – and such a stark contrast to anyone in the Vatican, not to mention her cruel husband. He had been the light which scattered the clouds and evaporated the never-ending shadows over her existence. When her father had with such political ruthlessness sold her off to the highest bidder, she had found the stable boy was her only profit in return for being such a dutiful daughter.

But now her Narcissus was murdered in cold blood, though it had been made to look like a weak suicide. Out on the streets several mornings ago, Lucrezia had held his cold body in her own warm arms and felt her heart stop as she'd gazed down at his quiet, pale face. Her light was gone, and the shadows had already closed in around her. Everything was different from what they had been before Narcissus however. She was stronger now and had learned to control the shadows and contain her pain. After that first day of endless tears, her sorrow had been replaced entirely by an equally powerful hate towards the guilty.

"... You know it was him," Lucrezia whispered as she gazed down at her son. Her voice was dark and low, yet it carried itself strong in the morning air. Somewhere outside her window a lark sang bright, clearly unaware of the darker tone inside Lucrezia's private chambers.

As Cesare stroked the chubby cheek of his nephew, Giovanni was slowly being lulled to sleep right before their eyes. The moment was so sweet, Lucrezia nearly forgot her anger. "I know," Cesare nodded eventually as he raised his gaze from the boy and beheld his sister.

"I will have blood for this," Lucrezia promised and her voice danced with both tears and hatred. To calm herself, she reached one hand down to touch her sleeping child. "One way or another."

Her brother remained silent a minute more as he pondered her wretched words. When he opened his mouth to speak, his low drawl was almost sharp itself, "… So you love him then? Your stable boy?"

"Does it matter?" his sister snorted in disdain. Her grey, lifeless eyes came up to meet his and neither had the power to look away from the other. Cesare's gaze alone seemed to caress her like a warm embrace and offer the support she needed right now. She felt at once both strangely strengthened and calmed as his dark eyes practically danced across her worn features. Surely the power to wield such healing love could not belong in a monster's heart? "He murdered the _father of my son_, is that not enough reason to wreak havoc?"

Cesare's larger hand found hers where it rested against her son's soft head. His fingers gently entwined with hers as he slowly raised their hands towards his lips. "You know you cannot, Lucrezia."

"Why not? Why should I not be justified in my vengeance?" she asked darkly and watched mesmerized as he pressed feather-light kisses all over the back of her hand. The warm feeling spread through her chest and she was overwhelmed by the affection he offered.

"Father would not approve," her brother said simply in a dark, hoarse whisper as he clasped her hand even tighter in his own. Lucrezia wondered if he was attempting to squeeze any implication of darkness out of her. "We are family, after all."

Lucrezia walked around the cradle and came to stand close beside her brother. Her body gently grazed his as she looked up into his honest face, barely a foot away from her own. This time as she searched through his eyes, she searched for the rumored monster that hid beneath the love he showed her and only her. "Then tell me what must I do, brother?"

He knew, as he always did, what she was asking for, but evidently he was pulling away from her dark desires. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards almost mockingly, as he suggested, "Forgive Juan. If you can."

Lucrezia joined in his mirth and chuckled haughtily. "You know that is impossible, my love. He stole the one person in this world who personified sweetness... How can the lamb forgive the wolf after such a heinous sin?"

Her brother tilted his head to the side as he whispered, "Father says vengeance is patient, my love."

"Then so must I be."

* * *

On the following night, the hour had already become late and the moon risen high in the sky as the city of Rome found itself mostly asleep. In her chambers, Lucrezia stood over Giovanni's crib and gently sang to his sleeping form.

Far away in the palace, she heard the shocked shouts of her elder brother die down, as well as the noises of the endless commotion after the recent event. After another minute or two, the world around her was silent again and the noises died out in every corner of the Vatican. Lucrezia smiled inwardly to herself as she walked over to her bed and lay down upon the covers. Her plan was completed then, and her heart content. For now.

Perhaps it had not been a patient and perfect vengeance. Yet, if nothing less, her brother had been forced to watch her true nature revealed in a manner she had chosen. As long as Juan realized what she was fully capable of and never again underestimated the fact that she, too, was a Borgia, Lucrezia felt she could sleep soundly tonight and any future night.

Suddenly, there was a low knock on her door and Lucrezia slowly turned her head as it opened and Cesare appeared before her. He was clad in his leather pants and his shirt askew, as if he'd been preparing for bed before all the commotion had started only minutes before. His eyes were wide and almost haunted as he beheld his sister as he had never beheld her before.

Lucrezia simply grinned up at him and pressed her index finger against her full lips to signal his silence. She then whispered, "I sang for Giovanni a long time before he fell asleep. Come to the bed and do not disturb his peaceful slumber, Cesare."

Her elder brother seemed to hesitate a beat before he walked towards her almost in a trance, like a young boy bewitched by an old hag. As he neared her, she could see the realization take form in his night-colored eyes. So he knew then, too. He had guessed the truth about the falling chandelier, and Lucrezia felt relieved she had not underestimated his intelligence. It meant that for the first time, Cesare Borgia beheld his sister as a woman, and not the innocent sister he so stubbornly had refused to admit was gone. Perhaps now they could both let go of the past and face the future together, more united than before.

As he sat down on the bed beside her, his gaze wandered towards the crib with the snoozing child. After a moment of complete silence in the moonlit chamber, Cesare at last turned to face his sister. In his knowing eyes, Lucrezia saw the detachment she knew so well. It seemed he wanted to pull away from her, as he had so recently begun, but at the same time keep her under his wings to protect her from the same shadow which she had already embraced within herself.

Lucrezia beckoned him with her gentle words to lay down beside her, "Come, brother. Whatever the commotion was about, it has ended. The world is quiet and even the innocent sleep."

Cesare shook his head distantly as a deep sigh exited through his parted lips. Unable to not acquiesce to his sister's wish, the tall, graceful man scooted back on the bed and lay down beside her. Lucrezia immediately turned on her side and rested a hand on top of his chest, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Cesare, in turn, rested one of his large hands atop of hers. As she gazed at it in the moonlight, she realized just how calloused the hand was. She figured it was from hard combat training. No doubt his man-servant, Micheletto, had been her brother's most willing trainer. The thought brought another smirk to her lips. A man-servant teaching a Cardinal to fight. The scenario was unheard of, but then again no Borgia ever followed the text-book examples.

"How much do you know about what transpired here tonight, Lucrezia?" Cesare's hoarse whisper was darker but filled with brotherly impatience nonetheless. "Tell me everything."

"Must I declare what you already know to be the truth?" she replied in a light tone which stood in stark contrast to her brother's.

As Cesare's hand tightly clutched hers in his own, the man whispered, "The chandelier did not land on Juan. It landed on his whore…"

"Oh?"

"I…" Cesare sighed as he seemed somewhat stunned by her reaction. "There was much blood, Lucrezia. The woman will not make it through the night, if even this hour. She could be dead already, I do not know."

"I see…" the blonde-haired woman whispered as she scooted her body closer to her brother until her chin came to rest against his shoulder. Lucrezia figured she had moved partially to feel the full influence his presence had on her mental health, but also partially to protect her brother in return. In truth, the death of the woman did little to affect the frost around Lucrezia's heart. It was perhaps unfortunate, but still a necessary cost to get her point across to Juan.

Lucrezia sighed as she snuggled closer to her brother. "If you are worried about the whor-"

Cesare interrupted her with a fierce whisper that clung to the shadows of the night, "It is not _her_ soul's damnation I am worried about!"

The young woman faltered briefly. All she could do was lean forward and kiss his knuckles with kisses soft as butterfly wings. She rose herself onto her elbows and gazed intently up at her brother's handsome face where it lay upon her pillow, framed by his dark curls. The truth of his statement still rang clear in the tension between them, but also shone all the brighter in his passionate eyes.

Lucrezia did not know how to approach it, since she felt no guilt to match her brother's. With a sly smirk, she instead asked, "And what of Juan?"

At last, Cesare released a humored breath and closed his eyes tight. As he opened them once more, he seemed much more his usual self and less the worried monster. "Unharmed… but shaken by the events. _Thoroughly_ shaken."

"At least that is something," Lucrezia smiled and leaned forward to capture her brother's lips in a kiss. She had meant for it to be chaste and fleeting but as soon as they met in the middle, she knew she needed more than that tonight from him. Her lips lingered on his and she could not quite bring herself to pull away. As Cesare pushed closer, she knew he felt the same. As always, he mirrored her in every way which she mirrored him. After a few long seconds, he pulled back and Lucrezia returned to rest her head against his shoulder. As she had expected, her brother had again offered her the simple yet overwhelming reassurance only he could.

"Do not leave me tonight, brother," she asked of him then.

She felt him kiss the top of her head and his breath was hot against her head as he whispered, "I must. I must take care of our distraught brother and make sure any evidence of tonight vanishes with the dead woman."

Though she knew he exaggerated their brother's reaction to the fallen chandelier, Lucrezia still felt the need to ask, "Was our beloved brother truly so distraught?"

"More so," Cesare smirked as he moved to stand from the bed and shifted away from her touch. As soon as he was no longer beneath her hands and face, Lucrezia lost the feeling of comfort he'd helped her gain in the night. Despite this, Lucrezia knew her heart remained strong and rejoiced in tonight's execution.

Her brother passed close to the crib to gently behold the sleeping child one last time, before he wandered towards the grand door. As he glanced behind, he smiled warmly down at his beloved sister and she smiled back.

"I will see you both first thing tomorrow morning... Sleep well, dear sis," he whispered and closed the door behind him.

Lucrezia smiled into the darkness and exhaled in relief as she closed her eyes tight. With his kiss still burning hot against her full lips, and the knowledge of her son's safety not far from her bed, she soon found comfort in a peaceful sleep.


	6. Chains Of Marriage

_A/N: I enjoyed Alfonso d'Aragona and find his character's evolution on the series one of the most interesting. To see the innocent creature basically destroyed by what the Borgias introduces him to, makes it very Shakespearean and a great character study about someone not destined for darkness. Therefor I'm certain Alfonso will figure in more chapters ahead and that I start by making him justice in this chapter. Of course, the chapter includes a healthy dose of C/L also. Rodrigo and Vanozza are thrown in the mix, too._

_I also added some facts about Alfonso's father just to mix it up a bit and to give it more leverage. _

_Spoilers: Post 3x09, Pre-3x10._

* * *

**Chains Of Marriage**

"This is pleasant, is it not?" Rodrigo's baritone voice hummed as he gazed about him at his family, gathered around the grand table in one of his private chambers in the Vatican.

On his left hand side sat Lucrezia, with her long, golden hair almost entirely down and flowing around her slim figure. She was dressed in a dark-blue dress with gilded trims that stood in stark contrast to her flawless, ivory skin. His daughter's smile was warm as she turned to her husband, Alfonso d'Aragona, on her other side. The young, dark-haired man returned the smile with what appeared to be a light grimace. Not that Rodrigo would ask about it, of course. His daughter's marriage to Naples was no longer an interest of his, and the Pope was wise enough to know what his own son was surely planning to do with Naples, sooner or later. It was in everyone's best favor, except Alfonso's, if _no one _asked about any of it.

On Rodrigo's right sat Vanozza, his one-time mistress and mother to four of his children. Her long, dark hair was up in a striking hairstyle and she was dressed in darkest lilac colors. She was still as beautiful as the day he had met her, but these days the Pope valued Vanozza more for her friendship and advice than anything.

Beside the elder woman stood a vacant seat, which, because of its emptiness, seemed to echo with tense anticipation. Everyone in their small dinner party was aware of the missing person and Rodrigo's eyes could not help but be drawn to the chair last. "Where is our son? Where is Cesare?"

Lucrezia leaned closer to her father and her clear voice spoke strong without missing a beat, "He will join us shortly, father. He told me he had some business with the sword smith which could not wait."

Alfonso sipped from his chalice of wine as his wife spoke, and from the corner of his eyes Rodrigo noticed a slight snarl on the man's lips before it was covered behind the brim. The younger man's dark, passionate eyes were not disguised, however, and the Pope clearly saw in them a passion he could not quite understand nor explain.

Rodrigo remembered clearly the sweet, innocent boy he had married his daughter off to, but now that he looked across the table he could hardly recognize the man he had become. Their stay in Naples had surely changed his son-in-law, in almost as many ways as he had seen his own daughter alter over the years. Sometimes he hardly recognized his own personal angel when he gazed into her hardened eyes.

"Ah… well," the old Pope said and cleared his throat. "Then we might as well begin eating without him."

With those words he signaled for the servants to bring them their dinner and several young men came bearing plates with one delicacy after another. All treats were placed upon the table before them and all their glasses were swiftly filled with more red wine to leave none wanting.

As Alfonso took another swig, Rodrigo leaned closer to his daughter. His eyes danced in the light of the candles as his aging features erupted into a slight smirk, "So… will there be any more children to expand our family any time soon?"

The words had but parted from his lips as his son-in-law started to laugh. What started low and haughty soon turned wild and cackling. It was a sound not befit of any dinner table, let alone one shared with the Pope. Rodrigo at once exchanged a confused glance with Vanozza, who looked just about as perplexed as he felt.

"What? What is so amusing?" the grey-haired man asked as he turned back to the other man.

"No, no, Holy Father," Alfonso struggled to control his composure and ignored the strained glare his wife threw him. As he pulled himself together, the man of Naples raised his gaze to boldly meet his father-in-law's. "Nothing is amusing to me. Please, forgive me. Perhaps there will be a newborn child to expand your family someday soon."

Rodrigo frowned at the perplexing reply. Though his interest was not peaked by the man's comments, he still felt obligated to question his unseemly, emotional outburst, "Oh…? And you found that humorous, why?"

"My husband is in a bad humor tonight, father," Lucrezia hasted to intercede. Her voice was both scolding and soothing as she placed a hand atop of her husband's. "We may let the subject rest, for I am not with child."

"Not with_ me_," Alfonso snorted into his wine. As he emptied his cup, the man suddenly moved to stand and withdrew his hand from beneath his wife's. The chair scraped across the floor loudly and as the sound died out in the shadows of the evening, the man rose in a fluid motion. He bowed once to Vanozza and Rodrigo before he explained himself, "Forgive me, but I must take my leave of you. I am, as my wife said it, in a _bad humor_ tonight. I am in no stage to dine with anyone tonight."

Without waiting to be excused, the young man turned, briskly walked towards the grande door and opened it wide. He glanced behind him at the small family a final time, before he threw the door closed behind him and the room fell into a tense, quiet confusion of his wake.

With a confused frown, Rodrigo glanced between the two women of his life. "Was it something I said?"

Lucrezia cleared her throat and, too, stood from her seat. "Forgive me, father. I must find Alfonso and make sure he is alright."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Lucrezia asked as she found her husband in an empty corridor not far from the dining room in the grand palace. Alfonso had chosen a good location to wind off, since servants rarely had to travel through these corridors and thus there was little chance of being caught doing much of anything.

As she reached his side, Lucrezia's insides were on fire and she had a hard time concealing her dark desires to scold him entirely for his bad behavior. She had seen her husband deteriorate and turn to wine more often than not these past few days in Rome, yet she had not expected a public display of disrespect. He had disgraced both of them before her father, and there were few things which could earn her forgiveness for such indulgent conduct.

Alfonso, as it was, merely glanced at his wife with a frown. His eyes were on the point of unfocused and it was a glazed over look Lucrezia recognized only too well. With a coldness she had lately learned to master, she commented, "You are drunk, my love."

"So?" Alfonso huffed. "This drunkenness helps me deal with the flaws of our marriage. The problem - _your_ problem - is that I am now speaking the truth."

Lucrezia came up close to her husband as his attitude seemed to squeeze the self-control of her fury close to its breaking point. In a dark voice, she hissed, "What of your behavior just now? Can you not even show any kind of respect before _the Pope of Rome_? Can you not keep your _insinuations_ to yourself? It amuses no one but you, Alfonso."

The man smirked as he pushed away from the wall and walked several feet away to escape from the woman. "From where I sat… everything about the moment seemed touched by such bitter irony and jest. The insincere amity between blood ties… The pretense you are an _ordinary_ family. Surely, you must see the comedy to it also?"

"I do not," Lucrezia denied. "And if you did, perhaps you ought to have remained further from the wine."

Alfonso snorted at his wife's ill-concealed remark and leaned back against the wall opposite from her. His eyes cleared momentarily as he gazed at her with an unreadable look. At length, he breathed, "You once likened me to the apple of the tree… You said I had the same _sweetness_ of the apple. Do you remember? I would wager you would not say the same of me if asked to comment about it today."

The blonde woman exhaled solemnly as she lowered her gaze. As she raised her chin once more, there was more frost in her seemingly colorless eyes. "I would not. You have begun to rot."

Her husband chuckled as he shook his head and pointed a lazy finger in her direction. "If I have, _my love_, it is merely because of the poison you've given me."

After his comment, both of them could do nothing but glare at the other. Both Lucrezia and Alfonso knew the line in the sand had been crossed, and could never be uncrossed. The point of kind lies were over and now waited a life of alcohol and stinging lies in their future. They were chained to each other by a marriage turned foul, and nothing would undo their unwilling status quo.

"I ask you again…" Alfonso's voice was low and emotional as he whispered into the evening, "… how long can we live like this?"

Lucrezia opened her mouth to speak when suddenly her eyes were drawn to something on her right. Standing further down the corridor was the unmistakable figure of her elder brother. Cesare wore his leather pants and a black-and-red jacket over his pale shirt. As he realized he'd been noticed at last, the tall, well-built man slowly walked towards the arguing couple. Neither Lucrezia nor Alfonso spoke as Cesare walked up and stood beside his sister, like a wolf protecting the most precious member of his pack. The woman clearly saw the worried question that danced in her brother's dark gaze, but she merely shook her head to quiet his troubled mind. Lucrezia knew it was to little avail, of course, for Cesare would never stop obsessing over her safety.

"… _Cesare Borgia,_" Alfonso breathed at last, with barely concealed aggression. "_My brother_. Or should I refer to you as 'personal jailer'?"

"You are not imprisoned here, Alfonso," Cesare said as he slowly drew his gaze from his sister. "All I've ordered is merely protection for your own sake."

"_Protection_?" the other man questioned and ran a hand through his short beard. "Not even your sister believes in that weak lie... What a trio of liars we compose, do we not? Forced to show the truth of our nature only in the darkest night... Chained to lies by daylight."

"Perhaps it is time you go home," the taller man all but commanded, and his tone of voice did little to sooth the other's already upset mind.

With staggering steps, Alfonso stepped closer to the siblings and his drunk mind was clear enough to fire off, "You think you are so strong, _brother,_with your Borgia blood running through your veins. But you are not the only one with a strong bloodline. My father fought in the War of Ferrara. He was condotierro and briefly a king, too."

"Yet you are not," Cesare pointed out dryly. "Nor will you make my sister a queen."

Beside him, Lucrezia decided she could not deal with it anymore. Too much had already been said under the moon this night that could not be unsaid. Someone had to put an end to it, and as always it was her responsibility. "That is enough insults for one night. Go home, Alfonso."

With a final, dark glare at the pair of siblings before him, Alfonso at last turned and staggered away down the corridor. When he was out of sight, Lucrezia at once turned back to gaze up at her brother. Cesare practically hovered over her and his eyes questioned her well-being with such compassion, she could but sway closer to him.

"You should not entice him, brother," Lucrezia whispered at length.

Her brother reached one of his large hands up to touch the pendant that rested against her bare skin. His hand trailed down to the trim of her dress before it returned to the necklace once more, "How could I not when he works so hard to be enticed."

With a gentle sigh, the woman turned away from her brother and his touch. She was prepared to walk away, when suddenly Cesare pulled her close to him once more and embraced her tight from behind. Soothed by his presence, Lucrezia allowed herself to lean into his warm embrace. As she inhaled his special scent, she felt her anxieties fade into the night outside the window.

"Tell me he is not treating you badly, my love," her brother's whisper was hoarse yet strong as it came from somewhere close to her ear.

"He is angry, brother," she replied. "But no, he is not treating me poorly. Still, I can understand some of his frustration. I, too, am tired of being a prisoner, Cesare. I was one in Naples, I do not wish to be one now when I am home."

"You are not-"

Lucrezia spun around in his arms and her face came inches away from his as she boldly interrupted him, "Do not make me a prisoner in Rome, unless you can be my guard yourself, Cesare. Will you make me this promise?"

At her words, whatever her brother had been about to say, evidently died out in the corners of his strong face. He raised one hand to caress her cheek as he sighed deeply. He searched through her eyes and Lucrezia willed him to see all she knew he needed to see. After a few seconds, Cesare sighed in defeat, "Fine, sis. But I insist the guards remain with your husband."

Lucrezia smirked as she stood on her toes to gently rub her noes against her brother's. "If you insist," she breathed as she closed her eyes and enjoyed a moment she knew would soon be over. After a few seconds she pulled away, but kept his hands clasped in her own. "Come now, mother and father are waiting for us. Dinner has already been served."

* * *

_More 'missing moments' to come!_

_If you liked or otherwise feel like commenting, reviews are always appreciated!_


	7. The Borgia Who Wouldn't

_A/N: This chapter is for the Borgia that got away; Gioffre (Joffre) Borgia. I think the series made a huge mistake by writing him out of the series without explanation. He was still a Borgia, and very much alive. He could have made a one-episode appearance at least. I imagine he could have shaken things up, with his historically bad relationships with some of his family members. In this, I try and depict how I imagine his split with the family must have occurred, since no one basically ever mentions him on the show after season 1._

_Now, the show took many liberties with real history, so I had to do the same. For instance, Gioffre lived in Rome for many years, if I'm not mistaken. And apart from some other liberties with years and age, I'm trying to remain as close to history as possible. I'm no Gioffre-expert and the person I write is simply my version of him. The version I imagine he would have become on the show, if that makes sense. _

_I must admit, though, that Baby-Giovanni's never-ending infancy is a pain in the ass for any and all calculations. Therefore, I advise everyone to be patient with this._

_Spoilers: Set around 2x02, though a short reference to 3x03._

* * *

**The Borgia Who Wouldn't**

He was used to being overshadowed. It was bound to happen when one belonged to a family with members who were ambitious and striving always up and beyond the norm. Gioffre Borgia had never been ambitious. Once upon a time, he could admit, he had been willing to do anything for his father, but that had never been about ambition. That had been entirely founded in a young boy's blameless love for his father, a childish love completely untainted by reality.

Four years had passed since, and Gioffre was no longer the same boy he'd been back then. The days of playing card with his mother, being made fun of by his elder brothers and adoring his father were so distant, in fact, that Gioffre himself could barely remember them.

His years away from Rome, too, made his childhood feel like a hazy dream of forgotten days. After their marriage, he and Sancia had spent a few months in the Vatican, but had eventually decided to move to Squillace, a Principality which had been donated to the Borgia with the dowry of the marriage. In the southern parts of Italy, the couple lived a completely different life to the one they'd lived in Rome.

He and Sancia, though childless they were, had made a home for themselves where no other Borgia seemed to desire to make a home. Now and again, however, he still missed his family. He could miss how Cesare helped him cheat in cards, how Lucrezia's laughter just made everyone feel better, how impressive Juan seemed when he wielded a sword or how his father seemed to hold all the answers. Most of all, though, Gioffre missed his mother from time to time. He'd been her youngest child and he knew they had an inseparable bond, tough as iron and thick as blood.

Out of all the members of his family, it was only his mother who occasionally visited Squillace. Her visits were few and long apart, but it still offered Gioffre a bond to the family he'd all but forgotten.

It was his darling mother who had convinced Gioffre it was time to pay a visit to the Vatican, after a long time away from his former home. In truth, the fresh sea air in Squillace and the time as master of his own castle had greatly changed the young man. For most parts the Borgia figured he had developed into someone better, when he compared Squillace to his childhood. Though he was accustomed to being overshadowed by the other Borgias, he had grown into himself as a man and now knew what he wanted with life. Therefore, he had no true desire to revisit the ghosts of past summers. The only thing that made him go back, was the love he bore for his mother.

As Gioffre rode through the gates of Rome, he realized his personal evolution had not gone hand in hand with that of his father. Though the skies were colorless and dull, the sight that met his eyes was anything but. Along the sides of the familiar main road, young men played trumpets when the young Borgia man and his wife rode past them, as if heralding the young man like a prodigal king.

Large crowds had stepped out to curiously view the spectacle and cheer for the dark-haired man, who kindly waved his hand at all he saw. Inside his chest, he silently cursed his father for this charade. The closer he came to the finish line, the harder Gioffre struggled to shake the feeling that his mother's sudden desire for him to visit Rome was nothing less than a puppet show, mastered by the powerful puppeteer himself.

When Gioffre and Sancia approached the steps of St. Peter's Church, the young man was not surprised to see the entire College of Cardinals alongside his family wait before the impressive house of God. The colors of brightest red blended well with the delicate, expensive fabrics of his family, and only in the Vatican it seemed the Church was as vain as the nobles.

"My son," Rodrigo smiled warmly as Gioffre knelt before the Pope and kissed his heavy ring.

The sixteen year old stood tall, he measured almost the same height as his brothers now, but he was not as muscular as either of them. As opposed to either brother, Gioffre had never desired a future as a soldier. His eyes drifted to them now, where they both stood on their father's right hand side. Cesare wore the red of the Cardinals, while Juan the sword on his hip. And though both managed a kind smile at him, they had none for each other. At least in these respects, things had remained the same.

Gioffre turned back to the elder man before him and bowed his head. "Holy Father."

"You have been away far too long, my son," the elder man scolded in a dark but uncharacteristically gentle voice. Gioffre was all the more convinced even this act of fatherly affection was a part of his grand show and a way to please the crowds below. Still, the smile on his father's lips was warm as his long arms embraced his youngest son. With a much softer tone, Rodrigo whispered into the man's ear, "Welcome home."

Though Gioffre did not feel he had returned to any kind of home, he merely grinned back and patted his father's shoulder, as the dutiful son he had always been.

* * *

"You hate this," Sancia whispered into her husband's ear.

The hour had grown late and the colors of the skies outside ranged from fiery orange to blood red, but the boisterous city was nowhere near settling down for the twilight.

To welcome him home, his sister and brothers had arranged a special feast in the most decorated hall of the palace. As he stood by the side of his beautiful wife, Gioffre's eyes stiffly searched the crowds in the magnificent hall.

"Not at all," he breathed sarcastically as his keen gaze observed all the trouble his siblings had taken to make him feel at home. Once more, the effort seemed solely a display, and there was something hollow to the love they chose to shower him with. Gioffre now knew that any wish of his to spend a few quiet days in Rome had never been anything beyond make-believe. Instead it had become painstakingly evident his entire family were determined to throw him straight into the pit of a world he resented.

Though no one spoke the words aloud, Gioffre was well aware of the reasons why his family was putting on such a charade for him. The life in Rome was a dangerous spectacle in itself. A daring game of politics and ambition and only with cunning could you win the votes you desperately needed to stay ahead. The rumors of the shady business had reached even his distant province in the south. Knowing his family, he reluctantly had to admit the rumors about them could not be far from the truth.

As Gioffre turned back to his wife, he noticed her gaze had wandered into the crowds gathered in the magnificent room. Out of curiosity, he followed her line of sight like an arrow and at the bull's eye, he found none other than Juan. His elder brother, in turn, was very keenly watching Sancia. As Gioffre watched their passionate gazes, he felt a sting of deception in his chest. So they were back to this then, _this_ which had been another of the countless reasons why they had left Rome in the first place.

"Gioffre."

The man's thoughts were disapparated like clouds in the sky by the clear, unmistakable voice behind him. As Gioffre turned, he was glad to see Lucrezia stand before him with her head held high and proud. She was dressed in a forest green dress with a flowery underskirt and her hair was up in an intricate hairstyle used for the adult women of Italy. Though she certainly looked the part, Lucrezia's face still kept some of its childish fullness. In the woman's arms rested her infant against his mother's safe bosom.

"Sis," the young man smiled as he stepped over to her side. His gaze traveled down to Giovanni, who snoozed as only a child can despite the loud music and conversations all around him. It seemed the whole world could collapse around him but as long as he lay safe and anchored in his mother's arms, nothing would bother Giovanni. "He's grown so much since I last saw him."

"So have you," the woman said simply. "… It was your last visit to Rome, was it not? When you came to see my newborn son."

Gioffre nodded. "I would not have missed the birth of my little nephew for anything."

"You brighten my day, Gioffre. As you always did when we were innocent, little children," Lucrezia mused and her bright eyes sparkled by the candle lights. "Of course, that was a very long time ago. Rome has changed us now... everyone except you, perhaps. Your innocence is preserved and well-tended. Please don't loose it..."

"I have no desire to change, Lucrezia," the young man spoke as he slowly sipped from his chalice.

"But you _have_, brother. You have already changed." Her dulcet voice was different than from mere seconds before, yet her face betrayed no such alternation. It surprised him to see she could change so sharply. She reminded him suddenly of Janus, the Roman two-headed god. Gioffre took a moment to inspect his sister more closely and at once all her small alterations appeared before his very eyes. Her eyes were sadder, harsher and prouder in a way that reminded him of their father. There was also a blood thirst to her vibrant eyes that glimpsed by well hidden behind her tall, guarded walls.

As his eyes kept scrutinizing her, the brown-haired man noticed one poignant distinction; Lucrezia's intelligent mind was well aware of her own changes, and embraced them as if they were both loved and desired, much like the child in her arms.

Gioffre released a heavy sigh before he allowed himself to voice his own conclusions aloud, "… As have you, dear sister."

"For the better, I would hope," she mused. As she beheld her infant, a shadow crossed her fair features and was visible upon the top of her battle walls.

"Forgive me for being blunt, Lucrezia," Gioffre began, "… but I was led to believe this entire spectacle - poorly disguised as my feast - was to demonstrate how Rome is the peak of the world… and the Borgias at its very pinnacle. You have all this opportunity _and _a child… Why are you not happy?"

The woman frowned as she held the baby closer to her chest. "I am happy, brother. Very much so."

Gioffre snorted in amusement, "I suppose some things never change in this snake pit of ours. You were always the best liar, sister."

* * *

Several hours later, as the gleaming stars had started to attend their own feast in the heavens above, Gioffre found himself in his temporary chamber in the palace, seated comfortably by a fireplace. As he gazed deep into the crackling flames by his side, he barely noticed the footsteps that approached from behind.

"I thought I might find you here."

The young man glanced over his shoulder and saw his eldest brother in the open doorway. Dressed in darkest leather pants and a fine shirt, Cesare looked more at ease than when he'd worn the red robe of his labor. It still amazed Gioffre to know his brother was deemed a wolf in a sheep's robe, but it did not surprise him.

"Mind if I help myself to some wine?" Cesare's voice was dark and hoarse, just as Gioffre remembered it.

The younger brother merely waved his hand as he sipped from his own chalice. "Go ahead."

His dark eyes watched in admiration as his brother crossed the room in a few, long strides to pour himself some of the red liquid. As Cesare took a deep swig of the wine, Gioffre leaned his head back against the headrest and whispered, "You would not lie to me, would you, Cesare?"

The elder man turned back to his blood relative. Cesare's eyes danced dark and alert, as if he could not lower his guard even in this private setting. "Not if I could help it, no."

Sick of beating about the bush, Gioffre kept with the truth. "Is it true, what one cannot escape hearing about you? That you wear a Cardinal's robe by day, but desire to wear the cloak of Death by night?"

"What do _you_ believe, brother?" the elder man questioned and seemingly deflected the implication as he walked over to casually lean against the wall by the fireplace.

As both men stared into the controlled fire, Gioffre replied, "Don't worry, brother. I believe you are still in the realm of light. Though… I imagine the fall into constant shadow is not far for you. Who knows how far you may have descended next time I visit Rome."

Cesare smirked distantly and the young man watched one wall after another raise in his brother's well-guarded eyes. The more he closed himself off, the more Gioffre knew he had to hide. With a smooth transition, the elder man asked, "There will be a next time then?"

The younger brother released an amused breath. "No, never if I can help it… Then again, my wife might desire otherwise. Tell me – _truthfully_ – is Juan sleeping with Sancia once more?"

The question lingered for a second in the middle of the room, almost visible and touchable for both brothers as it echoed above the crackling noise of the fire. As Gioffre raised his gaze, his eyes boldly locked with his brother's. As they gazed at each other, the younger man could practically see the distance which grew between them with every second that passed.

"You already know the truth to that," Cesare admitted at length.

Gioffre downed the last of his wine and then grunted, "I wish I did not… How can he do it, when we are brothers?"

Cesare sighed in amusement. "… He is _Juan_."

"No," Gioffre shook his head and rose slowly from his seat. For a second, he felt his argument was with Cesare, not Juan, and he desired nothing more than to punch the man that stood before him. "He is _Borgia_."

The elder man's smile suddenly seemed chastising, "As are you, Gioffre."

"… Maybe I am. But I don't feel like it. You feel at home in this world, Cesare? I do not. I _could_ not. The lies and deceits create a poisonous snake pit from which one cannot rise without first being bitten."

Cesare sipped his wine and shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot disagree."

"Yet you do not wish to leave it," Gioffre observed. "That is our biggest difference, Cesare. And Lucrezia and Juan are just like you in this. You three embrace the lies and deceits and know how to triumph in the game. From what I hear, you even provide some of the snakes... If that is what it takes to be counted as a _true_ Borgia… I can't say I want anything to do with it."

Cesare gazed long and hard at his youngest siblings and opened his mouth to speak. Whatever words of wisdom he had meant to speak, the moment was interrupted by the loud, drunk voice coming closer to the chamber.

"Where is my baby brother?" A second later, Juan appeared in the open doorway. His hair was disheveled and his jacket slightly askew. As the middle brother spotted his two siblings, something dark shot through his eyes like a strike of lightening. "… I hope I am not interrupting."

"You aren't," Gioffre spoke in a short tone and refused to meet his brother's gaze. The mere presence of Juan in his private chambers sent his blood boiling and there was little to keep him from crossing the line. Pissed and intoxicated by the wine, the young man hissed, "Have you come to see my wife, or have you just seen her?"

Juan blinked, startled, as his eyes searched to meet those which refused to be met. So used to being challenged by everyone else, he had still failed to expect his youngest sibling would follow the world. He laughed, uncertain how else to react, as his weary eyes flew from one brother to the other. "What's this, Gioffre? I do not understand your animosity towards me."

"Oh, I think you do," the youngest brother growled as he stood from his seat and whirled around to face his brother. With two strides he found himself right in Juan's private space and shoved a hard hand into the man's strong chest. "Why would you do this to me, brother? I thought you loved me?!"

Juan pushed his smaller brother away and frowned in response. "Of course I love you, Gioffre! You are my brother!"

"You are fucking my wife as if she was one of your whores on the street!" Gioffre snarled and pushed his brother into the doorpost. He knew he did not have the strength to beat his brother, but did not seem to be able to constrain himself. He'd endured much in silence when it concerned his wife and his brother, but no longer. Even Gioffre had his limits. "You were my _favorite_ when I was a child… but you've changed so much." Gioffre whirled around to face Cesare, who stood wearily by the wall. "You all have."

Before him, Juan chuckled and reached for his brother as if to hug him. Gioffre thought the act reminded him more of a Judas' kiss and so he stepped back. His brother smirked nonetheless. "Please, brother… Calm yourself. You are not acting like yourself, Gioffre…"

"No, I am acting more like _you_. Like a true_ Borgia_," Gioffre snarled and shoved his brother one final time. "… You're digging your own grave, Juan. Open your eyes before it's too late."

* * *

Early on the following morning, Gioffre walked through one grand chamber after another as he entered the private chambers of his father. The old man had sent his official mistress, Lady Farnese, to summon Gioffre for a private meeting, and the youngest Borgia had no other option than to accept the invite. As he entered the small meeting room next to the Pope's bedroom, the young man came to a halt as he saw his father inside. The old man, dressed in a white, silk robe, stood gazing up at a large map upon one of the walls.

"You asked for me, father," Gioffre spoke in a passionless voice and Rodrigo waved his son to step closer. As the young man slowly circled the room, he felt like the prey unknowingly stepping closer to the hunter. Though he had not expected to feel like a son approaching his father, he was surprised to realize all affection was dead in his heart. The man before him might as well be a complete stranger.

"We once explained this map of Italy for you, son. Do you remember?" Rodrigo drawled in a low, rumbling voice as he placed one arm around his son's broad shoulders. "Much has changed since those days, and our Italy is no longer safe as it was then. There are shadows lurking everywhere, even in our Vatican… We will need the entire family united if we are to brave the coming storms."

Gioffre shook his head and turned his head to gaze up at the grey-haired man beside him. "I know what you ask of me, but I cannot do what you wish, father. This is not my home anymore. I cannot follow your lead, not in politics nor in family matters."

Rodrigo's dark eyes sparkled with something cunning and sly as he gazed down at his son. "Of course you can."

"I _will_ not."

As if finally acknowledging his son's adamant resilience, the elder man's smirk faded effortlessly into a frown. "… What are you truly saying, Gioffre?"

"I may have married Naples, but if you desire Naples' aid you must search for it some other way."

The glimmer in his father's eyes now seemed about to burst into furious flames as the man's voice rose an octave, "We had you marry Naples so that you would help your father-"

"_So may be it,_" Gioffre interrupted harshly. It was his time to speak and not be pushed around anymore by the hand that desired to control him. Lucrezia had been right when she had asserted her brother had changed, and it was at last time for the father to come to the same conclusion. This was where the dutiful was replaced by the honest, and Gioffre knew there was no other way to do this. As he steeled himself for the attack he knew would be the result, Gioffre continued, "... But neither Sancia nor I will be of assistance to you. I am not interested in playing a politician, this is not a life that attracts me. I lead a simple life in Squillace and so I shall continue. The decision is my own."

"You are still our son," Rodrigo snarled down at his son and jabbed a long index finger at the young man's chest. "Have you no respect for your family?"

"_Have you?_" Gioffre countered as he puffed out his chest and pushed away the threatening hand. "... I have come to fear for their eternal souls, Holy Father."

Confusion replaced fury momentarily in the elder man's dark eyes. "Whose?"

"My siblings," the young man clarified with a low snarl. The fury boiled hotter and hotter in his heart and he knew it was impossible to stop his words now. Every word poured from his lips as easily as honey would, and there was no point to deny himself the need for clarity. "Should they remain in this pit of politics and pitiless ambition, they all advance towards only one possible goal; _H__ell. _Do you not see that you have condemned them with your ambition?"

Rodrigo waved his hand as if swatting away an annoying fly and stepped back from his son. "My children have their own ambitions."

"_I_ do not…" the youngest Borgia disagreed fiercely. "And I believe that is simply because I got away from you in time. The veil has been pulled from my eyes, _Holy Father_. I see my life and my family clearly, though a part of me wishes I could not. Because the truth is like poison and blinds my eyes. The name of Borgia is a sign of trouble-"

"_It is a sign of power!" _the old Pope shouted and shattered what little peace was left for the two of them.

"_What power?!_" Gioffre argued back with equal strength that matched his father. "Have you not heard what the people think of you, father? The name of Borgia is synonymous with the Devil, and after one day back in this pit… I see why. Perhaps there is power to be found when one does not play by the rules, but it is not _divine_."

With a trembling hand, Rodrigo raised his hand to point once more towards his son, as if to judge him for a crime most terrible. His eyes were aflame as he shouted, "You are no longer my son, if ever you were truly mine! I am not convinced you were ever a Borgia!"

Gioffre pushed his father away and stepped towards the exit. "I was always your son by blood, father, but never in spirit. Let us be frank, you and I, for the first time... We are both Borgias, but we are nothing alike. The same ambition that long has burned in your heart, will never touch mine."

* * *

"Must you leave? I would so wish you for to stay," Vanozza pleaded with her son as the two of them stood outside in the awakening city.

Gioffre smiled down at her as she squeezed his hands in her own smaller ones. Even though he saw the love of her heart worn on the sleeve of her elegant dress, the man could also see his mother knew not even she could conquer his heart any longer. Those days were far off in the distant past and could only be accessed through memories. The battle for his soul had been lost even as he had returned through the gates of Rome and realized this was not his family or his home any longer. For Gioffre, this had never been about changing his opinions, but rather about maintaining those he already had.

Beside the mother and son, the man's strong stallion waited impatiently. Further away down the street Sancia already sat atop her own mare, and behind her waited their small group of servants. All of them were prepared to ride home to Squillace, even though they had but spent one day inside the walls of Rome. Gioffre was well aware the rumors about their early departure would spread like the plague, but there was no evading that either way he acted.

"This is not my home anymore," The young boy leaned down and kissed his mother's fair cheek. It weighed down his heart to see his mother's torment about this, but he could do nothing else if he was to be true to himself. He had to get out now, before he was stuck like his siblings in a never-ending spiral of immorality. "Nor will it ever be home again."

Vanozza clutched his hands tighter, like a chain around his wrists. "If you disown them, Gioffre, you disown me."

"_I'm_ not the one doing the disowning, mother," Gioffre clarified as he stretched tall and gazed down at his mother. It was time to cut the very last bond that clung him to the other Borgias. It was time to move on, at last. "But it doesn't mean I have any desire to share this life with any of you. Not Lucrezia, Juan or Cesare. Least of all father."

The fair brunette smiled but it did not quite reach her eyes as she gazed up at her youngest son. The truth to his words seemed to stick with her, but she still held her head high despite the words that passed her lips, "And me? Have you so little trouble leaving me in the past as well? I thought this family was founded on love, Gioffre. Not deception."

"So did I once, mother…" the man matched his mother's sad smile. "But the deception was to believe in the love and ignore the true ambition that runs through their veins. I'm not like them, mother. I may have the same blood, but not the same heart. I have no ambitions to match this spectacle my family call life. I do not fit in here, for all I want is a quiet life... Don't you see that?"

Without waiting for another word, not even the simplest goodbye, Gioffre turned from his mother and swiftly jumped atop his stallion. He steered over to his wife and side by side they rode down the main road towards the gate and the life that waited beyond. As they passed the stone walls and saw the open fields ahead, Gioffre breathed the scent of freedom at last. He could not deny that it felt good to leave his past where it belonged, and the family he had to leave behind in order to move forward.

He'd made his decision and he would live his life accordingly. He would be free of his father's control and would not have to continue being overshadowed by his siblings' ambition which he did not possess himself. Whatever would follow in the future could not be worse than the life he'd chosen not to lead. He was his own man, at last.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed this long and somewhat unusual chapter!_


	8. Aftermath

_A/N: And so we have a chapter of the series finale. I thought the episode was great and would have made an epic __season__ finale, but fell somewhat short as a __series__ finale. Obviously, it was written and made to be followed up somehow. It's a shame the show was canceled when you basically see the greatness which would have followed the last episode._

_This is, anyway, my continuation of the episode. I thought the ending was a bit rushed, and I would have wanted a few more minutes to actually conclude anything. So this chapter includes an attempt of dissecting Cesare's complex mind as well as offering a longer end to the episode. I hope I do both things justice._

_Feel free to review if you like. If not, I hope you still like the chapter._

_Spoilers: 3x10_

* * *

**Aftermath**

Seated on the very edge of the bed in his sister's private chamber, the dark-haired man let his eyes follow the blonde woman that passed right in front of him. Her golden night robe was covered with smears of blood and thus tainted for the whole world to see. The red even stained her ivory cheeks and collarbones, the color of death upon her bare flesh. She was marked, alike Cain had been, but this was not of God's intention. Instead this mark was the inevitable sign of her family name, which at last had irrevocably turned even Lucrezia Borgia from the path of light.

As the siblings eyes met across an abyss of grief and regret, Cesare's heart broke at the empty look in her eyes. It seemed nothing mattered to her anymore, and it frightened him beyond everything to think it meant _he_ meant nothing to her either. Cesare wanted nothing more than to reach out to her and offer her comfort, but knew the truth was much harder than that. He was far from certain she could ever forgive him for what he had done to her, let alone embrace him as she had always done up until today. If he lost her over this, Cesare knew his heart would never mend and he would never forgive himself.

He desired nothing more than for Lucrezia to talk to him, but without relieving his misery, she simply passed his seated figure and walked with strong steps towards a table ahead.

Cesare had been certain he would need the aid of the assassin Rufio to end the pain of his brother-in-law. He realized this had been a most erroneous assumption when he gazed up at Lucrezia as she poured some pale poison into a cup of water. Opting to take matters into her own hands, his sister carefully swirled the contents into a perfect, seemingly harmless blend for her husband. It would be a painless death… a swift death. And, most importantly, it would leave no trace whatsoever.

It amazed Cesare to realize his younger sister had measured the amount of poison with such skill that it could be nothing less than instinct. He remembered so well how innocent she had been all those years ago, before their father had been elected pope, before her first husband had defiled her and before their brother had been murdered. The woman that stood before him now held none of that child's innocence. That child was dead, killed by Death dressed in a golden robe.

"Is this all I am now, brother?" Lucrezia's dark voice interrupted his pensive thoughts. "A Borgia."

The fabric of her golden robe grazed the floor as she turned back around and Cesare couldn't look away. He found it befitting, that the color of death was not black, but purest gold, when the power was wielded by his sister. As his sister passed him to reenter the bedroom, Cesare felt the authenticity to her statement slap him and leave him almost breathless. _A Borgia_.

At last, Cesare voiced the truth aloud, "… A professional."

He had tried so hard to keep his beloved from his own path of darkness, but in the end he had only managed to trap her in the depths alongside him. With one of his calloused hands he had pulled her from the path of enlightenment and with the other he had smeared her body with poisoned blood. She was his creation. And with the murder of her second husband, Lucrezia would willingly eliminate even the last possibility to return to the land of sunlight.

As he sat alone once more in her chamber, Cesare realized it had all been inevitable. They had both tried to steer her clear of the worst horrors, but it had always been in her blood, just as much as it had always been in his. They were _Borgias_, after all. The world of politics, church and murder was their game field. Now that she had crossed over the final unseen threshold, they could together fulfill the possibilities their name promised. He would conquer worlds and make her the Queen she deserved to be.

Cesare lost himself to his own contemplations for a few minutes but soon found his anxieties returned to the present. Everything relied on the fact that Lucrezia did not scorn him for his deeds. Certain that she must have poisoned Alfonso by now, the tall man stood from the bed and walked over the open doorway.

As he stepped into the shadowy bedroom, he saw the figures of Lucrezia and Alfonso upon the bed, illuminated by a few, lone candles. The atmosphere was eerily quiet and Cesare could basically feel his heartbeats rise in despair. They thundered in his chest, like the hooves of wild horses on a plain.

Lucrezia lay on top of her husband, but neither stirred as he drew closer.

"… Lucrezia?" Cesare called, but there was no answer. The rest of the world seemed to vanish as he saw nothing but her still body upon the bed. She would not have, would she? "Lucrezia?"

When she still did not stir, Cesare threw himself forward. "_Lucrezia_!"

He climbed onto the bed and swiftly rolled his sister off of her deceased husband. Cesare was barely aware he was lying across a dead man as he gazed down at the woman's tranquil face. Her eyes remained shut and he instantaneously placed his palm over her mouth to feel for her breath.

Under his touch, she at last drew a shuddering breath and Cesare felt a wave of relief crash against his body with full power. A dead faint… That was all it had been. Lucrezia had killed her husband and remained alive herself.

Her breaths were shallow and her eyes opened a fraction as she breathed, "I will never wash this blood away."

Cesare's thumb came up to caress her chin upon hearing her sad confession. If she was this beaten down, he would heal that which he had broken. He would build her up from scratch until she was as good as new, if not better than before. "… Then I must."

He pushed off the bed and walked over to a bureau close to some candles. He retrieved a cloth and dipped it in some clean water before he kneeled on the floor by his sister's head. He leaned over her, until her eyes were able to make contact with his. The emptiness in her gaze echoed for a second longer before it was replaced by something different. She gazed up at him, not as she would a murderer, but as she had always gazed at him. It seemed even before his hand touched her skin, she anticipated its effect. As he gently swept the cloth over her cheek, eliminating the red patches as he did, Cesare whispered, "You will be naked…, clean and bloodless again."

As his hand moved to wipe away the blood upon her bare throat; Lucrezia closed her eyes and her lips parted slightly. Cesare leaned closer as he wiped her other cheek and for a moment, her eyes flew open once more. As their gazes met across the shrinking abyss, Cesare could see she was not far from him, as he had feared, by right by his side.

His lips grazed her forehead and he could taste the copper of the red liquid against her skin. It tasted like extreme liberty and supremacy upon his tongue. Cesare breathed in conclusion, "… And _mine_."

He slowly leaned over her and kissed her neck as he heard her release a breath filled with life and yearning. "Say it again," she whispered almost out of breath.

Cesare smirked against her skin as he continued his conquest. "_Mine_."

She moaned beneath his kisses and her fingers came up to pull him closer still. "Again."

The man pulled back a couple of inches until he could look into her half-lidded eyes. The desire which burned within her was evidently mirrored within him. Cesare smiled as he traced her jawline with a tender hand. She leaned into his touch as if she could not get enough of it. "Mine."

Cesare pulled back momentarily to dip the red cloth in the water and watched as blood mixed with the rest of the water. It seemed to be a conquest as the two liquids swirled around each other, before water yielded and turned red also. With the clean cloth, Cesare walked around the bed and lay down next to Lucrezia. Her face turned towards him as his own came down to linger barely an inch away once more.

As his hand wiped the blood from her forehead this time, one of her slim hands reached for his shoulder. She tugged on him almost desperately as her pupils dilated. Every part of her face which Cesare cleared from blood, he soon covered with a hot kiss. For each time, Lucrezia's breath came quicker and quicker and her hold steadier on his shoulder.

At last, his lips descended on hers and claimed them as his own, something he should have done a long time ago. Lucrezia moaned into his mouth as she traced the outline of his lips with her tongue and Cesare pressed closer to her, easily giving into her silent demands. The sensation of her lips evoked memories inside his chest, and he knew it was either heaven or hell to feel like this. He was not certain which, but, as Lucrezia had said, whichever it was that overwhelmed.

As his tongue explored his sister's mouth, Cesare's hand trailed a path down her chin and neck until it rested on her chest. He reached for the string of her golden robe and effortlessly untied it. He helped his sister shrug out of it before he tossed it aside and focused on her night gown. His hand gently untied even that and he pulled on Lucrezia to sit up. She appreciatively followed his order and pulled her arms out of the gown before the fabric easily fell from her bosom.

Cesare held her gaze captive as his hands followed the night gown downwards, past her slender stomach, past her hips and last past her legs and feet. The gown, too, was soon cast aside as Cesare returned to his work. As he focused on cleaning her bare chest from any traces of blood, Lucrezia's grateful hands held him closer still and one of her legs entwined with his.

At last, he wiped the last blood he could find from the side of her neck. "As good as newborn."

Lucrezia smiled at his comment and her happy face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her hand traced the strings of his shirt as she pulled him down towards her one more time. With a dark, confident voice, she whispered against his lips, "… Not quite."

* * *

As morning broke, Cesare woke from his peaceful slumber. A mane of blonde hair obstructed his line of view and he could not help but smirk to himself. His memories of last night had been true and not merely part of his teasing dreams. Of course, the night was in its own way a dream come true, and he could scarcely believe any of it had finally come true.

His arms rested over his sister's bare chest and she held onto him tight, both of their bodies turned towards the pillows. Cesare turned and glanced behind him, to the harsh reality that waited after the night. Down by the foot end of the bed lay the still Alfonso, pale and dead like yesterday.

Slowly, Cesare released himself from his sleeping sister and stood from the bed. He found his shirt and threw it on swiftly as his eyes swept across the room. Upon one of the tables he saw the long, white sheet and briskly he walked over to it. As he took the sheet in his hands and walked back over to the bed, Cesare quietly beheld the dead Duke. He felt no remorse in regard to Alfonso's fate, but was still glad the man had been freed from his agonizing demons without delay.

Cesare threw the sheet over the body and raised his gaze to his sister, only to find her grey eyes watching him in turn. Without a word, she glanced from the living man to the dead one before her. Something unreadable passed in her fair eyes, but whatever it was, Cesare knew she would never share it with him.

When her eyes once more found his, a smirk leisurely spread over her full lips. Last night had evidently changed her, but for now, Cesare was simply content to have his sister back from the brink of depression and death herself.

"I am naked…" she began almost teasingly, and Cesare chuckled, "clean, and bloodless."

The man circled the bed and knelt on the covers to lean over the woman. "And mine."

Lucrezia nodded as her hand reached out to caress his chin. "…And yours. All just as you said."

Just as Cesare bent low to once more claim her lips, a sound of commotion interrupted their peace.

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia!" a familiar voice echoed from somewhere far away in the small palace.

"Is that father?" the blonde woman questioned with a frown as Cesare leaned his head against her shoulder.

"Who else can interfere at this hour?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

* * *

After hastily getting dressed in the same clothes they had worn the night before, Cesare and Lucrezia soon walked down the stairs. There, in the center of the hall, stood their father, accompanied by a minor guard and their mother, Vanozza. Though the hour was early, the Pope was already dressed in his white, embroidered robe and seemingly distraught. The act, however, did not fool either of his children who remained on the middle plateau of the grand staircase.

"Father," Lucrezia greeted as she came to a halt.

"Lucrezia…" Rodrigo breathed as he turned to his children. He stopped at the bottom step of the staircase and gazed up at them both. "We have only just heard. How horrible... What news of Alfonso? Will he live?"

The young woman exchanged a dark look with her brother. Cesare could not tell whether her resentment then was aimed at him or their father. After a second, Lucrezia faced her parents once more. "No, father, Alfonso is dead."

"… Ah," Rodrigo breathed, but at once he did not seem as distraught. His murky eyes searched his son's, but Cesare did not wish his father to read him this time. Though their reunion had been sweet, this was one part of his life Rodrigo had no business in. The Pope glanced behind him at his former mistress before he continued, "That is ill news. We are most sorry-"

"Speak no more unless your condolences are true, Holy Father," his daughter briskly interrupted. Her strong tone shocked them all as they gazed upon the transformed woman.

Rodrigo did not seem to wish to either disagree or agree with her claim, as he shifted focus, "… May we inquire instead as to what happened here last night?"

Cesare opened his mouth to speak, but Lucrezia beat him to it. Her hand clutched his tight as her eyes bore down at their father. She calmly explained, "An assassin in the night. Cesare and I had decided to meet here yesterday, but my brother was followed in the shadows. It was my sweet husband, however, who ended on the wrong end of a sharp blade."

Rodrigo clearly pondered her words as Vanozza stepped forward. The elder woman's eyes were bright and intelligent as she questioned, "… And what of the assassin?"

"Gone," Cesare breathed. "He disappeared without a trace."

"A terrible infortune, indeed," Rodrigo muttered. "Let us know if you need any help preparing for the funeral, Lucrezia."

Cesare stepped forward. "I will arrange everything for her, father. You need not worry. I shall help her through this."

"Yes, yes, of course. But in case I can be of assistance-"

Lucrezia interrupted and stepped up beside her brother, "That is quite alright, father. Cesare and I will manage this on our own."

The elder man exchanged a glance with the brunette by his side. "…If you say so."

* * *

"I have killed him, Cesare. I have killed my husband." Lucrezia said as the two were alone once more.

The body of Alfonso had been retrieved hours earlier and sent to be washed up and prepared for the afterlife. The bedroom in which he had died had been shut by order of Lucrezia, and the news of the departed Duke had spread through the city already. Rumors of the assassin were whispered in the dark, but none dared voice the most likely option aloud. Cesare knew he would not be able to hide behind the weak lie and that the rumors about him and Lucrezia would only turn more adamant and fierce from this day on. He knew he could bear it, however, for she was his at last. Nothing else mattered in comparison.

As he gazed across her bedroom now, Cesare's face contorted in a displeased frown. His sister stood by one of the windows with her back towards the world. She was dressed in a black mourning dress and the man thought the color suited her pale complexion. Cesare tore himself from the crib and the sleeping Giovanni, as he walked over to join his sister by the window.

He gazed down at her and tried to convey the truth with his eyes. "You know it was I who killed him… It was not intended to end this way-"

Lucrezia's strong voice cut through his sentence like a sword, and with a strong edge it resonated between the walls, "But the end, you had intended."

"… Yes."

A sad smile played on the corner of her lips almost haughtily, but she only swayed closer to his body. "… I wish you had not. With Alfonso alive, we could have had it all."

Cesare reached for her and his hands gently held onto her elbows. As her smaller hands came up to play with the clasps of his jacket, the tall man willed his sister to see what he had already figured out. "No, my love. That is what you believe, but you said yourself that he knew about us. His mind could not bear the thought of our love and he was turning dark before our eyes. He could have destroyed too much if he remained alive. I would not have had him harm you in any way."

Lucrezia leaned close to him and turned her face into the nook of his neck. Her breath was hot against his throat as she whispered, "Our love killed him, then."

Cesare leaned his chin against the top of her blonde locks and his arms embraced her small waist. "No, it was still only my fault."

The fair woman pulled back far enough to gaze deep into his eyes. The look in her own gaze was strong and relentless, as if she had no desire to debate this matter. With a steady voice, she declared, "… No, my love. Our love for each other drove you to murder and me to tire of my husband. We are both to blame. Neither of us loved Alfonso as he deserved to be loved, but each other more than we ought to."

The man released an amused breath as he inclined his head in agreement. "This is true."

"I cannot forgive this act, brother."

Cesare's smile faded as he nodded once. "Of course not. We are Borgias, we never forgive."

"I cannot forgive neither you nor myself… so I must learn from it and grow." Her eyes remained locked with his and true affection and love shone in them, making Cesare's own heart soar as a bird in the sky. Despite the lack of innocence and childish delight, Lucrezia instead now possessed a new-found strength and determination to match their impossible love. "Together. We shall grow _together_. We are changed because of last night, but now we can finally be together."

"_Forever_," Cesare promised and leaned down to capture her lips once more. He knew he would never release his sister from his loving captivity, and at last he had everything he wanted out of life. Together they would be invincible.


	9. The Game of War

_A/N: Here comes the continuation of the notorious scene between Cesare and Lucrezia, in which he gives her the knife he used to murder Giovanni Sforza. I always assumed there was something more that transpired between the siblings after Rodrigo stormed out of the room, and this is my suggestion. _

_Spoilers: 2x06_

* * *

**The Game of War**

"Like me, you have just declared a war."

Cesare's words lingered in the room even as the baby's fervent cries echoed shriller and louder from its crib. 'The sleep of the innocent', as her brother had declared it, had been abruptly interrupted by the intemperance of their father, the Pope. Rodrigo had lost his temper upon realizing his darling daughter would not consent to his request of remarriage. Whether it was because he had realized he was losing control over his most innocent child, or because of a general dislike of refusal, Lucrezia was unsure. Irregardless, she thought that it, in a way, must be considered a crime in God's eye to destroy the peace of an innocent child. It certainly was in _her_ eyes.

The blonde woman turned back and gazed at the seated man behind her. Cesare's worn form sat slouched upon the wooden end of her grand bed and she could plainly read his crimes upon his fair features.

In his drawn lips, she could read his impatient anger towards their father and the man's command that Lucrezia be married. In his slouched shoulders, she saw his guilt of having contributed to their father's command. Shining stronger still, was the glow in his eyes that seemed as bright and alluring as amber by a sparkling fire. His dark eyes spoke of no guilt, but rather an immense pleasure of a crime well done. Giovanni Sforza no longer walked upon this Earth, but rather burned slowly in some depth of Hell reserved especially for people of his grotesque kind. Cesare Borgia had made sure the man no longer drew breath and from the cloth-covered knife within the man's grasp, Lucrezia had a feeling her brother had made her former husband pay his debt in the most painful way conceivable.

As Lucrezia beheld her elder brother now, she could not help but be struck by a simple notion. As much as she loved Cesare, he would always frustrate her in equal amounts. Though he had eased her own mind with this vengeance he had promised her once, he had also condemned her to re-enter a married life she did not covet.

Her fragile hope to be left alone with her child had been shattered alike the thinnest glass by Cesare's cold, calloused hands which were already before stained by blood. Lucrezia's son was still in his crib and her heart had barely mended after Paolo's untimely death. Her heart was not ready to move on yet. She needed more time, something she, too, had been robbed off.

"You knew I would be forced to remarry," Lucrezia claimed in a low voice but did not await the man's reply. Instead she turned her attention back to Giovanni in his frustrated state. The Pope's fury seemed to have disturbed the child to such a state of mind that nothing could soothe him. Perhaps it was no surprise that God had punished Rodrigo by bringing down the roof of St Peter's Church by a strike of lighting, after all.

The fair lady lifted her wailing son into her embrace and tried to quiet him with soothing words whispered into his tiny ear. Still, Giovanni did not quiet and the woman desired nothing else than for him to be at peace once more. Suddenly a pair of black-sleeved arms appeared in her line of sight and Lucrezia gazed up as Cesare gently took the shrieking child from her arms without uttering a word.

The woman watched in awe as her brother took the role of both father and uncle, a role he had played most loyally since the birth of the child. Ever so softly, he now rocked the baby to and fro. Before their very eyes, Giovanni slowly calmed in the man's arms. The man who only days before had committed a foul crime which had tainted his fingers with blood he could never wash away. The baby struggled to keep his eyes open as a yawn escaped past his young lips instead of a wail.

"Your son is falling asleep in the arms of a murderer," Cesare whispered hoarsely. Though bitterness touched the edge of his voice, his eyes still shone with pride and contentment as he looked at his younger sister. "What does it say of _him_?"

Lucrezia stroked Giovanni's chubby cheeks and let her hand linger on her brother's arms. She squeezed it tenderly and gazed into his bottomless eyes. "That he is a _Borgia_. He feels safe with you… just as I do. We have nothing to fear with you."

Her brother leaned closer until his face was a mere inch away from hers and his eyes shifted to portray his own loyal love to her. "And you never will."

Lucrezia sighed gently and slowly stepped over to the window to get some air and clear her head. She listened to the last of Giovanni's whimpers die out as the bright morning grew older outside. When finally her chamber was entirely silent, she could hear the larks and the doves sing from the courtyard below. For a second the beauty of Rome and the morning light made her forget the recent darkness that had descended upon her heart, but the peace did not last, chased as always by the dark truth.

At length, she turned back around and beheld her brother boldly. "I do not blame you, brother. Father always desired to marry me off sooner rather than later. He was merely awaiting a good enough reason to disturb my brittle peace."

"It is still an unfair trade. I perform the _tedious_ task," Cesare smirked momentarily as the deed plainly played through his eyes and memories. As his smile faded away like the sun on the horizon by nightfall, his eyes rose to meet his sister's once more." …but you pay the prize."

The fair woman exhaled in dark amusement and a small smile played at the corner of her full lips. As she walked across her chamber once more, Cesare carefully placed the sleeping child back in the crib before he stepped back. As brother and sister gazed at each other from across the room, it seemed nothing else existed outside their private bubble. What had been done was irrevocable, and neither wanted the Sforza's death undone. They both knew there was no point in denying that truth, though the world might never share nor understand their unholy hatred of the deceased. As long as the other felt the same way, the siblings needed nothing else.

As Lucrezia sank onto her small, yet extravagant, sofa, she could not help but ponder their father's words mere minutes before. "…'The matter of Forli', Father said. You murdered a Sforza, an achievement you know I commend you most gratefully for… But what else transpired in the fortress of the _inimitable_ Caterina Sforza?"

Cesare's eyes fell to the ground momentarily. "Nothing, my love."

The young woman leaned forward and her gaze beckoned to her brother's blood and heart. She smiled slyly as she read his reaction far plainer than any written book. "A lie, brother. You cannot hide things from me."

"I know," the striking man raised his bearded chin once more and met his sister's gaze, at last. Whatever perplexing shame had hid in his eyes seconds before was suddenly wiped away, as if never having existed. Still, Lucrezia saw the traces of it as his smile did not quite reach his hesitant eyes.

"Then tell me," she ordered gently.

Cesare shuffled from one foot to the other before he circled the room towards her. Whether he was attempting to evade her or corner her, Lucrezia was uncertain. His low drawl, however, was confident and clear, "As I told you before I left the Vatican with father and the Vice Chancellor; some things are better left unsaid."

Lucrezia snorted and leaned back against the pillows. "In this particular matter, I do not care. If I am to be placed back on the market because of _your_ actions I will know them all. Tell me what you did."

Cesare came to a halt before her seated figure and with a set jaw, he reluctantly explained, "I… shared Caterina Sforza's bed. For two nights."

"Oh…?" Lucrezia breathed cautiously and made sure to raise a protective wall to hide her true reaction even from her beloved brother. With a blank face, a tabula rasa of sort, she gazed up at the man before her. With feigned disinterest, the woman breathed, "And still she will not kneel before our father? ... Do not call me a blasphemer, but in this lingering moment of anger, I cannot say I blame the woman. After today, I am assured I, myself, shall never bow before the Holy Father again."

Cesare sunk onto the pillows beside his sister then. With an emotionally empty voice, the man declared, "Father loves you."

"That may be so, but he has no scruples of using me once more in his perverse game of political chess. He writes the rules and will only play accordingly. But I do not agree to marry a second time. I cannot. I _will not_ be ravished-," she was promptly interrupted as Cesare's large hands landed upon her smaller, paler ones and squeezed them tight.

"Please, Lucrezia. Do not utter those words again."

With a frown, the woman met her brother's hurt gaze. This was _her _ache, not his. Even though his eyes honestly told her he shared her pain, Lucrezia knew her fierce, strong brother would never have to worry about rape or submission. She had already experienced both, and knew that as a woman, the past could always repeat itself. This time, however, she would fight hard and do her best to come out victorious. With contempt and bitterness, she uttered, "Why should I not? It already came to pass once… who is to say it will not happen again?"

Her brother placed the bloodied handkerchief in her palms once more and closed her hands around it tenderly as if it was a token of love, not of vengeance. In a way it was, too. As Lucrezia gazed down at the knife that protruded amidst the pale fabric, Cesare fiercely whispered into her ear, "_I_ say it will not happen. I will not let any man touch you like that again."

Lucrezia smirked haughtily as she clasped the knife tighter in her hands. "… You will not always be there, brother. You will not prevent anything... If only _you_ could be my next husband. Only then could I be certain that I would be both loved and cherished until the day I drew my last breath."

Cesare smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers and released a deep sigh. Lucrezia's eyes closed on their own accord as she listened to his hoarse whisper, "We are family, we are Borgia… No matter what happens, I will always take care of you. And when I cannot be there, you are strong enough to take care of yourself."

The woman pressed closer still to the warm touch of the man she loved above all others. With a frail sigh of her own, she whispered back, "What shall I do then with this marriage father wishes to force on me?"

"Play the game, my love."

Lucrezia pulled back far enough to look up into her brother's face with a confused frown. "What game?"

"Whichever game that will win you the war," Cesare smirked as a grin spread across Lucrezia's full lips, too.

* * *

_More to come! Have any thoughts on the chapters so far? Feel free to leave a little comment to let me know!_


	10. When In Squillace

_A/N: Another piece with Gioffre Borgia, this set after my previous chapter with the lad. In this chapter Lucrezia and her husband Alfonso visit Squillace. Is it for family vacation or political scheming?  
I honestly think the show creators __made a mistake in "forgetting" Gioffre entirely after season 1. They should have used a growing Gioffre as a moral compass working opposite his dark, ambitious family. But maybe that's just my thoughts._

_Spoilers: 3x07, also the Gioffre-chapter of this story, vaguely references 2x10_

* * *

**When In Squillace**

"Welcome to Squillace, brother!"

Alfonso smiled widely. Upon hearing his sweet sister's dulcet tones, his feet brought him up the last few stone steps in great speed, as if they had angel wings. Sancia stood before him outside the castle walls with a brilliant smile on her fair features. The young woman with her long, dark locks was beautiful as a moonlit night dressed in white and gold beside her husband, Gioffre Borgia. It had truly been too long since Alfonso had last seen his sister and his heart pounded joyfully as it anticipated their long talks about everything that had transpired since their last meeting.

"Sister," Alfonso greeted as he kissed his sister's tanned cheeks with tender affection.

Beside him, his wife, Lucrezia Borgia, stepped up to greet her own brother. Lucrezia, dressed in deep red with black trims, shone like the sun as her hair reflected the heavenly lights and her smile burned warm and gentle. Her delicate hands barely grazed Gioffre's broad shoulders as she stepped close to him. Alfonso could not help but notice she kept a distance to her younger brother which she did not with her elder brother, Cesare. Lucrezia kissed her brother's bearded cheek with affection. "Brother... How I have missed you."

The younger Borgia's smile was polite as he, too, kissed his sister's cheeks. Though there seemed to be nothing amiss on the surface, Alfonso was aware of the difficulties which had passed between Gioffre and the rest of his family. The warmth in their eyes, grey meeting grey ones across the short distance, only proved how great actors the Borgias truly were. "And I you, Lucrezia. Welcome to my home."

The couples, joined together by both marriage and thickest blood, stepped back to gaze up at the splendid castle and its breathtaking surroundings. The old, tarnished stones created a medieval palace up on a hill and far below in the distance they could see the vast ocean extend its watery arms over the world. A light breeze carried the salty scent even up to the hillside and had a soothing effect on their minds.

"Oh, look, Alfonso," Lucrezia breathed suddenly as she pointed a graceful hand towards a small sea-side village far in the distance. "A fishing village by the coast… How charming it all seems."

"The south of Italy has many wondrous sights, milady," Sancia said. "But none as wondrous and splendid as the Vatican in Rome, I dare claim."

"In either case," Alfonso began as he noticed his wife's attention still lingered on the distant village as if she could not quite draw her eyes from it, "the splendor of Squillace far exceeds Naples. Do you not agree, dear wife?"

"Hmm? Oh yes," the blonde woman said as she turned back to the conversation. "I love Squillace already, Gioffre. I cannot believe it has taken me this long to visit."

"I can believe it," Gioffre spoke but even though his words were cryptic, his grin remained warm and understanding. With a fluent move, he extended his arm for his elder sister and glanced ahead at the grand gates to his home. "Shall I show you the rest?"

With an eager, childish humor, Lucrezia took her brother's arm and Alfonso watched in awe at how all his wife's worries seemed to fade away in the salty, sea air. He was no stranger to his wife's latest quest of interfering with the line of succession and knew it troubled her mind constantly. Lucrezia's greatest fear remained to be parted from her son once more, and it was a worry Alfonso was certain could never leave her mind. Therefore, he could not help but wonder if her carefree features now was another facade.

Alfonso had come to realize that the woman he had first met, whom had smiled warmly at him with the grace of God, was not the woman he had married. He had never known any person so adept at masking her true thoughts as Lucrezia Borgia. Sometimes, he was certain she was even able to fool herself with her honey words. Still, since she did such a perfect impression of serenity and grace, Alfonso could not be certain of anything. What was false and what was not, he had yet to learn.

"Brother?" Sancia's dulcet voice brought him back to the present and he glanced down at the expectant woman by his side.

"Forgive me, Sancia. My mind did wander," he excused himself and together they followed the Borgia siblings further into the palace.

* * *

A few hours later, as the sun was casting colorful rays of richest red and darkest purple across the endless skies, Gioffre found himself alone with his sister on one of the smaller balconies that faced the vast sea below. Though they were far away, the man could practically hear the waves crashing against the shores and the sea gulls in the distance beckoning to the sailors.

As they stood side by side, the young man took the opportunity to inspect Lucrezia's impassive profile. It had been almost a year since he'd split with their father and solemnly promised never to return to Rome. During that period of time, he had not heard a single word from any of his siblings, nor had either he or Sancia been invited to the marriage of Lucrezia and Alfonso, despite their evident ties to the event.

All of this combined had made Gioffre both suspicious and surprised when he had received a letter written by his own sister's hand. In the letter, she had assured him of her love for him and expressed a desire to visit her youngest brother, especially now that their blood ties had strengthened through yet another marriage. By the persuasion of his wife, who had long missed her brother, Gioffre had set aside his hesitation and welcomed Lucrezia and Alfonso to his home.

Her dull eyes now were blank and empty, as if there was nothing inside her body and soul to occupy them. He knew she had been through much since their last meeting, yet the emptiness of her had even Gioffre concerned for her heart. He remembered their childhood and her genuine warmth, but knew none of that innocence existed any longer within her tarnished soul.

With a slow, confident sip, Lucrezia drank from her wine and then turned to gaze up at her younger brother. The woman arched a slender eyebrow questioningly as she noticed her brother's curious gaze upon her.

Gioffre stood tall and pondered how best to approach the topic which both knew to be inevitable. In the end, he knew that when it concerned his family, frankness was always the simplest solution.

"I know why you are here, sister. What you are _truly _here for."

"Oh…?" Lucrezia asked and her voice was touched by a bitter humor as a faint grin spread across her full lips. "Can't a sister simply visit her younger brother without an ulterior motive?"

"A Borgia cannot," Gioffre pointed out.

The smile on his sister's lips simply widened as she boldly glared up at him. "Then you must tell me, dear brother, why am I here?"

"Because you are an ambitious soul, Lucrezia," the man spoke and his eyes held his sister's captive as he continued, "Just like father and Cesare. I hear our brother is threading a dangerous path for his own evolution, as it is... I used to think it was not your fault. Father always did ask much from his children. Sometimes, I believe, _too much_."

"You think I'm here because of father?"

"No…" Gioffre shook his head once and glanced up to the horizon and the setting sun. As the light disappeared from the surface of their grand world, the young man's clarity and inner illumination seemed to strengthen. "If you had come here a few years ago, perhaps. Now you're here because of your own ambition."

"And what _ambition_ is that?" Lucrezia asked in a playful tune, as a cat might play with a mouse soon to be killed, and her eyes glistened in the vast array of colors from the sun.

"I am your brother, Lucrezia. I will not play games with you. I leave that to the lost souls who cross our family's path," Gioffre breathed harshly. "… Since I left Rome for good, the whispers of our family have increased in my proximity. They've dared tell me everything they did not before. How Cesare murdered your first husband, how you had King Ferdinand of Naples killed, as well. With a heavy heart, I've even heard the rumors that say Cesare killed Juan. I heard about the Banquet of Chestnuts and all the other sordid affairs in the Vatican…"

"I cannot confirm any of that."

"You don't have to," Gioffre snorted in bitter amusement as he beheld his sister in the waning light of day. As the shadows crept over the world, they seemed to expand not from the waning light of day, but rather they seemed to be born from his sister's dark eyes. "Last time I told father he was driving this family to Hell, and I now fear you are all balancing on the brink of the bottomless pits."

"Do you see a way for us to return to heavenly light then?" the blonde woman asked with contempt dripping from her voice as if it was sweetest honey.

"I do not," Gioffre confessed as he once more turned his gaze from his sister. It broke his heart to see her so fallen from grace. "Though I believe that is because you do not wish to return. You do not see the evil in what you have done, do you? What you are bound to do should you not turn from this path?"

Lucrezia pondered his question briefly before she spoke in a dark voice that reminded Gioffre more of their eldest brother, "I see a vast gap between light and darkness where I dwell. Neither hell, nor heaven."

"Neither? Or _both_?"

The blonde woman squared her shoulders as she spun around to face her taller brother. The power in her eyes seemed to eliminate any difference in height and, indeed, Gioffre even felt smaller beside her as she spoke with a firm tongue, "Listen to me, brother. You wish to know why I have truly come to Squillace?Now that I am married to Alfonso, you and I have a common interest once more."

The Borgia man scratched his beard as he followed her line of thought. "… So because you have married my wife's brother you want me to help you affect the mind of whoever will become the next king of Naples. Tip the balance of the scale in your favor."

"Does that make me so terrible?" the illusion of a blonde angel asked and Gioffre knew the devil was closer than ever.

The young man sighed as he replied, "Perhaps you ought not to meddle in these things more than you already have. Let Frederigo and Raphael fight for the crown instead… Or do you prefer if it went to your husband?"

Lucrezia lowered her gaze and her face was cast in shadows as she spoke, "I would… But he does not want the crown. Alfonso will not be king."

"… And you will not be queen," Gioffre said with a pointed voice.

"If I get to keep my son," the blonde woman began and raised her chin once more, "I will not care who bears the crown."

The youngest Borgia snorted once more as he looked down at his sister with honest distrust. "A weak lie, sister. Why settle for half, when you can have it all? Crown _and_ child. Or do you covet something else more than a crown these days?"

"Are you insinuating something, Gioffre? I do not believe I've ever heard you insinuate before. It sounds most confusing coming from your lips."

Though he knew her ignorance was an act and a silent command for her brother to back off, Gioffre determinedly explained, "You are head-fast, strong and ambitious. I do not understand why you would settle simply because your husband says so."

"Should I ignore his desires then? Make myself queen and rule through my husband?" Lucrezia asked. Whether it was mockery or a genuine inquiry, Gioffre was uncertain. Certainly it was a question she had asked herself plenty times in these past, unsteady months.

"It is what I would expect from you, knowing who you have become," the man said plainly.

Lucrezia huffed indignantly and at once reminded Gioffre that she, too, was younger than she appeared. "It may come as a surprise to you, brother… but I do not need a crown to be happy."

"Perhaps not…" the young man conceded as he downed the last of his wine and stared down into the empty glass in his hands. "But your husband and child are not enough either, which is why I assume there's something else on your mind. Something or _someone_."

For a minute, the two siblings merely glared at each other across the growing divide between them. The sun had almost entirely set beyond the horizon now and the shadows grew longer by each passing second. Soon the whole world would be devoured by darkness in what would seem like an endless night. As Gioffre found it harder to see his sister's strong features in the fading light of day, he could not help but be grateful she was slipping from him.

Her voice cut through the shadows with an edge, as she spoke, "I believe I've had my answer to my request."

"I'm sorry it was not to your liking, sister," Gioffre drawled bitterly.

"It makes no difference. I shall still win my gambit, even without you, Gioffre," Lucrezia breathed. "It is getting late, and I am tired. I imagine Alfonso and I shall leave early in the morning so I shall take my leave of you now."

She was suddenly in his personal space and Gioffre leaned down slightly as she placed a tender kiss on his bearded cheek. A farewell gesture that spoke of times not to come. Still she said, "Let us not wait long before we next meet, darling brother."

Amazed by her act, Gioffre could only huff, "I do not believe there will be a next time… Do you, Lucrezia?"

"No…" she admitted and her voice was low and weak. With the most truthful tune he'd heard pass her lips since she'd arrived at Squillace, she continued, "But I'd very much like to pretend there will be."

The man sighed and nodded as he squeezed her slender hand in his own. "Goodbye, sister. Thank you for visiting my home. It was an honor to receive you here."

"_Home_..." Lucrezia mused. "I must confess that only Rome has ever felt like my home. It pleases me to see you found another."

"As it pleases me," the young Borgia spoke. He felt grateful to finally recognize his sister, and not the plotting, ambitious Borgia bull she was evolving into. Unfortunately, it was all too little, too late. "If you cannot change your path, Lucrezia, you must be careful with those closest to your heart, or I fear even Rome won't feel like home to you soon. For now, I merely wish you have a safe journey in the morning and write to me as soon as you are safely restored in Naples."

"I will. Farewell, Gioffre."

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_Reviews and your thoughts are always appreciated! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, either way!_


	11. Friendship Forgone

_A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay in between chapters!_

_In this piece, I wanted to address the disappearing friendship of Lucrezia and Giulia in season 3. Another thing the creators could have handled differently. I'm fine with the idea that the two simply grew apart, but I wish the show could have addressed that, if even briefly and in passing. Their friendship was too important to be forgotten entirely. Overall, I think Giulia was underused in the last season._

_This chapter didn't turn out exactly as I wanted it, so I might return to rewrite it further down the line..._

_Spoilers: 3x03_

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**Friendship Forgone**

As Lucrezia entered the study, her eyes immediately sought out the lean figure seated by one of the windows, illuminated by the pale sun outside the Vatican. With a sturdy book in her slender hands, Giulia Farnese looked as angelic as the time all those years ago that Lucrezia Borgia had first made her acquaintance. Much time had passed since those younger, more carefree days and neither of them were the same persons any longer. Too much storm had blown around them to leave their souls untouched and intact. Despite all the water under the bridge since the beginning, the women had always remained close together.

Through her dark trials, Lucrezia had learned she could always count on Giulia to be there for her. Still, as the Borgia now beheld the fair lady on the other end of the small yet imposing room, she could not help but feel distant to her. Lucrezia could not find it in words to describe the change and it all only existed in her heart and mind. She knew her soul was no longer bound to her friend's as it used to, for reasons both clear and unclear to Lucrezia's usually sharp mind. Perhaps the winds had merely blown so strong it had pulled them apart.

"Lucrezia… Please, join me," Giulia's light tone interrupted the fair lady's thoughts and the blonde beauty once more gazed over at her friend. Dressed in deep orange and wearing a heavy necklace around her slender throat, the lady Farnese's eyes shone of kindness and warmth where she sat in one of the windows. As always, she was the epitome of a kind welcome, with a subtle cleverness apparent in the corner of her slim mouth. Lucrezia knew that many men had underestimated her friend's brains, but despite this, Giulia rarely sought revenge on feeble minds.

With a slight grin of her own, the Borgia lady sauntered easily over to the open window and gazed at the world outside. The sun had risen hours earlier and though the sun was high in the sky, it was not as warm as it used to be. The entire Vatican seemed colder after the recent events which had shaken their entire world. With a gentle sigh, Lucrezia turned her gaze to the garden below. By the small, stone fountain, her gaze found her father and brother in deep discussion over one topic or another. Even from such a distance, their tense body language could not be denied. The Pope was seated in a wheel chair, since he had not yet fully recovered from his near death by poison, and Cesare was leaned back against the fountain's base in a contemplative stance.

"Are you eager, Lucrezia?"

With a curious face, the young woman turned back to her company. As she read the question in her friend's eyes, Lucrezia smiled impassively and sat down in a chair beside her friend. As she smoothed a wrinkle in her royal blue dress, she replied, "You mean my wedding. I completed the last of the seating arrangements this very morning, and now all is prepared for tomorrow. I can hardly wait."

"I hear your husband-to-be is very eager," Giulia teased with sparkling, pale eyes and a humored breath. The Borgia lady still thought she could sense a cautious bite behind the benevolent facade. She was surprised to notice the raised wall in Giulia's eyes, for it was one she most often only kept for the world of men. Perhaps the brunette, too, had noticed the difference in their friendship then. "More eager than your father, I dare claim."

Lucrezia merely shrugged as she leaned back in her seat and pondered the statement. "Neither father nor Cesare are very enthusiastic for it anymore… It's as both of them had a change of heart after the poisoning. They will not tell me much, but I know their minds are pre-occupied elsewhere. With ideas of war and conquering… My marriage is merely a means to meet their end now."

Giulia closed the book in her lap and her heavy dress rustled slightly as she leaned forward. Her ebony pale hand squeezed that of Lucrezia's and with sad conviction, she said, "It was always a means to an end. Your love was a fortunate advantage."

"If I could not love Alfonso, I would not have agreed to marry him."

"You chose him, Lucrezia," the Farnese woman pointed out. "You are lucky your father gave you that option."

"Option?" the fair Borgia snorted as her temper rose like a hungry, wild fire in her chest. She struggled, as she was bound so often these days, to tame her anger and smother her tears, as she turned her strong gaze to meet the brunette's. "The only _option_ I had was to marry a man who could contribute to the Vatican, preferably with coin or armor. This may be by choice, but not by free will. If I had been at liberty to choose, I would not marry at all."

The other sighed as she pulled her hand away from atop Lucrezia's and the cold that met her flesh had the Borgia gazing down at her own skin. Was this how her life would feel to her from now on, cold in withdrawal?

"I know your first marriage was not as you had hoped," Giulia began with a cautious tone. "… But surely Alfonso will make you happy."

"Alfonso will make me as happy as he can, but is it true happiness or a pleasant fiction?" Lucrezia asked and as soon as the words had crossed her lips, she wished to have them unsaid. It was a matter she had thus far kept a secret from the world, even her most darling brother. She knew Alfonso d'Aragona was sweet and innocent as a child, and thus the opposite of the tyrant Giovanni Sforza. Still, Lucrezia was not certain this was enough to guarantee her heart happiness. The truth to her confusion was founded in a secret she could not share with anyone but her brother, for it concerned only him and his heart.

Apart from her heart's most guarded treasure and secret, Lucrezia also knew that King Ferdinand of Naples would not allow her son to accompany her to her new home. How could any city be a home without Giovanni in her warm embrace? How could she possibly be happy?

As if reading her friend's thoughts, the lady Farnese whispered, "King Ferdinand will change his mind, I am sure. You must simply be patient and persuade him yourself. I have never known you to surrender in the face of defeat, and I know you'll find a way to have your son in Naples."

"Yes," Lucrezia mused as she gazed across the distance at the beautiful woman. "If God has taught me anything on this Earth, it is the art of adapting."

"It is a woman's greatest achievement," Giulia mused with a bitter sigh as she rose from her seat in the window. Another wall had risen in her clear eyes and Lucrezia watched intrigued as the brunette turned her back to the room in order to gaze out the window. "If a woman can learn to adapt, she can learn to survive. And you, Lucrezia Borgia, are surely alive."

Gazing up at the lady's back, the blonde breathed in a monotonous tone, "I live and breathe, this is true. But am I alive? … I am not as certain."

"… If you are not alive, then what am _I_?" Giulia asked and the long, dark curls flowed across her back as the lady walked across the room and away from the window. The silence dominated the room with a powerful hand before she once more broke free and spoke, "I have come to believe your father's affection for me has cooled considerably... He has not said as much aloud, yet I know the truth in his eyes."

Unsure how to reply, the blonde sat silently for a minute or two. When Giulia at last turned her head to meet her friend's, Lucrezia felt forced to comment on a truth neither should deny. "Surely it is not so?"

Giulia tilted her head sideways as slight surprise flashed through her eyes. "You lie.… Then I fear he is not the only one to do so?"

For another second, words failed the young Borgia lady. She had not expected to be confronted by the truth, even though it had clung to the tension around them for awhile now. In the end, it was inevitable, but it was still nothing Lucrezia particularly wanted to admit to. "You fear my affection for you has faded also? Giulia, I could never stop loving you. You are the sister I never had."

An amused smile spread across the lady's slim lips as she leaned against a wall by the open door. "Once upon a time, I would have believed that statement. Tonight, I do not."

"Are you claiming I speak untruthfully?"

"No," Giulia shook her head firmly. "I simply mean that you have begun to grow cold to me and that affections that once were are no longer. I do not doubt that your sentiment was once real. But you are preoccupied with other loves to have a place for me in your heart right now. Perhaps it is not merely your father and your brother who have changed after the failed poisoning."

Lucrezia felt her body had stiffened with each word her friend had spoken, as if spellbound by their effect. Though she knew every single word hit home, she did not much care to have it spoken in the clear. "What are you insinuating?"

The Farnese lady tried to silently convey her meaning through her eyes, but whatever she wanted to get across, Lucrezia could not understand. The Borgia knew she did not much want to either, for the gentleness in Giulia's eyes spoke of a life she did not covet. Finally realizing the other's resistance, Giulia sighed and lowered her gaze.

"For whatever my advice is worth to you these days, Lucrezia…" the fair lady began as she turned to the door. "I advise you to at least pretend to be happy with Alfonso, for surely such pretense will make fiction come true. Convince yourself, and you'll both be happier. Do not declare war on the world if you can make peace with it instead. You must not have blood for this."

As Giulia exited the room with those parting words, the Borgia finally understood her friend's current plight. Though she'd always encouraged the Borgia's strength, she clearly did not condole Lucrezia's wanton, power hungry heart. In her plight for control, Lucrezia stood alone. It stung to have her last confidante pulled away from her with such brutal force, but there was no part of her heart that wished to fight for their friendship either.

The world had, indeed, changed them both since the start, but it was not clear that they had not evolved either together or even in the same direction. As Lucrezia sat with no companion but her own heart in the small chamber, she felt more alone than ever before.

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_Thank you for reading! Next chapter will include more C/L, and possibly some more Juan!_


	12. The Truth of Djem

_A/N: Another scene with Juan, Cesare and Lucrezia. This takes place in 2x01, right where the scene with Cesare and Lucrezia by the crib of the sleeping infant ends. This is from Juan's perspective, but I am not certain I did him much justice. Either way, Juan's always a joy to write. How I missed him on the show after he was killed. _

_As far as I remember, Lucrezia never found out about the truth of Djem's demise in the series, so I here offer a situation in which she learns the truth. It might be OOC, but I figure Juan's jealousy towards his siblings could drive him to admit to anything which could divide them._

_Spoilers: 1x03, 2x01._

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**The Truth of Djem**

The moon had risen high and shone bright in the skies outside, as if in an attempt to shine a light upon any secrets hidden in the dark shadows all through Rome on this night.

Juan walked through the quiet corridors by himself without a specific goal or aim. The sound of his shoes echoed softly against the floor, with no other noise to drown it out. There was not even a single servant in his line of sight. The sad humor did not go unseen, for it did not surprise him that without the men of his army, he was in solitary company.

The young man was far from tired tonight and his mind had grown more restless as of late. Dark thoughts spun round and round within his spirit and most had to do with his elder brother. Some, too, dealt with the rest of his family and their protection and advancement. He felt the weight of this Borgia curse burden his broad shoulders but he had no one to unload to. Especially not to those he felt burdened to protect.

Without meaning to, the Borgia suddenly came upon a familiar corridor and further away heard the somber unmistakable tones of his siblings. Juan came to a halt in the open doorway to his sister's magnificent bedroom and leaned against the tall, ornate doors as he gazed inside.

Inside the chamber, with their backs ever turned to him and unaware of his presence, stood his siblings framed by the thin canopies of the child's crib. Lucrezia's back was pressed against her brother's chest as they both talked gravely in the quiet of night. From where Juan was standing, their closeness greatly abridged that appropriate for a brother and sister. He could remember no time in their mutual past where Lucrezia had ever been as close to him, though their childhood had been mostly happy together. The recognition stung Juan's heart, as it always had, to know he was not so close to either of them.

His sister spoke in a gentle voice now, as her eyes remained on her sleeping infant, "There is one your heart must find room for, Cesare. One you must love before you can love anyone."

With a sigh, the taller man asked, "And that one would be…?"

The fair woman took hold of her brother's hand and kept it close to her chest, as she whispered, "Yourself."

Juan watched his siblings for a few long moments before he decided he could not linger in the back anymore. Though it was enough amusement to hear Cesare had a weak heart, Juan could not sneak away into the shadows when he was presented with such an opportunity to do damage.

"Are you in need of lessons of love now, brother?" Juan's voice rasped.

At once, both Lucrezia and Cesare whirled around and pulled apart, as if their brother's presence was a wedge that forever kept them separated. The surprise on both their faces gladdened Juan as he slowly circulated the room, like a predator stalking its prey.

Cesare recovered fastest as he set his jaw and stiffly responded, "If I am, I shall have no better teacher than our dear sister."

Lucrezia's face, meanwhile, had turned into a frown and she gazed up at her brother as he came to a halt on the other side of the crib. Juan ignored her as he reached a hand down to touch his nephew's cheek. The damned child turned its head, but remained sound asleep. Too bad, Juan thought to himself as he swiftly withdrew his hand from within the devil's crib.

"Why are you here, Juan?" his sister's curious voice rang clear as it echoed in the silent night.

"Can an uncle not visit his baby nephew?" Juan asked in jest as he finally raised his eyes to meet his sister's clear and pale ones. With a relentless heart, he masked his true opinion behind a thin veil. "Much like... Cesare here, no?"

"You approve of Giovanni then, brother?"

Juan was not surprised to hear his sister's intelligent question fall from her lips with mild suspicion. He knew she was learning swiftly about politics and had always managed to keep up with the long, fast steps of her brothers and father. Still, for all her bright prospects, she was willing to waste herself on the child that rested between them. Juan shrugged his shoulders as he took a step away from the crib and infant. "It is not my place to approve."

"You're right," the fair, young woman acquiesced with a stern tone as she read between the lines. "It is father's place. And he does approve of his grandson."

Juan could not prevent the snort that escaped past his lips. For all her brilliance, Lucrezia Borgia was still but a young, obstinate woman. Though their father approved, there was a whole world outside that did not. The _Infans Romanus_, as the child had become known to the citizens of Rome, would never be approved outside the walls of the Vatican. Least likely, perhaps, would Juan ever approve of the abomination his sister had brought forth. Whatever the child was, it was neither Borgia nor an innocent creation. For what he suspected of the baby's parentage, it could be counted only as a spawn of darkness. An unholy spirit which could be nothing but an obstacle for their family in the future.

"What's so amusing, brother?" the Spanish beauty questioned in a strong, demanding voice which Juan thought unfit any lady.

With a baiting tone, he explained himself, "One day when you're older you might understand, dear sister, the true reasons for politics."

"Like you do?" Cesare questioned and his voice, too, rang with jest alike a church bell for prayer. He sat down on the foot end of his sister's bed and leaned his arms against his leather clad knees.

Juan turned his back to the two people on this Earth who were supposed to be on his side, and sauntered over to the window not far away. He gazed up at the bright moon as he pondered the right words, before he said, "If nothing else, I understand how this family works. Better than anyone, I dare say. Or perhaps that is not entirely correct. Perhaps Gioffre understood our family best, after all."

"Why do you say that?" Cesare's low voice rumbled hoarsely.

Juan turned his head sideways and glanced back at them both. "You know the reason, brother, just as I do, why our youngest brother never returns to Rome anymore. _Politics_."

"He loves his family dearly, still," the elder man countered.

"But he loathes the _game_," the middle brother pointed out with a growing grin upon his handsome, bearded features.

Cesare was not slow to retort, "What he loathes is a brother who sleeps with his wife."

"… That, too." Juan agreed as he slowly turned his back to the night outside and faced his siblings once more. Though they stood not closely together any longer, they were still side by side and united against him. It seemed nothing he ever did could breech those defenses, not even those acts he performed in their protection. With sarcasm, Juan concluded, "I know this; We are _family_. We are one. We will only triumph in this political game as one."

"Those are father's words," the eldest brother breathed tiredly. "Have you no thoughts of your own to stand by?"

"That is enough," Lucrezia's voice was low enough not wake her son, but still strong and determined. Her pale eyes flew between her brothers as she spoke her piece of mind. "I do not want your infested hatred to awaken my son. I hold no grudge with either of you. There, let it rest for tonight."

"No grudge with either of us?" Juan questioned as a new plan took form in his fast mind. Perhaps he could sow some mistrust between his siblings and have a pleasant end to this day, after all. "I will soon beg to differ. Have I ever told you of my first argument with Cesare about lessons in killing?"

"Lessons in killing?" the younger Borgia asked as she leaned forward against the crib. Her attention was solely drawn to her brother now, like a moth to an unwavering flame in the dark of night. Behind her, Juan saw his elder brother stiffen and slowly rise from the atop the bed, as if anticipating what was inevitable now that Juan had opened the gates to hell.

Juan laughed and it was a cruel and cold sound, like a crisp, winter morning in their city. His sister was not as informed as she desired to believe herself, but indeed, required information from the most unlikely source. And no matter what he did at present, Cesare could not prevent the words from being said. All in all, this was shaping up rather nicely.

"Why do you laugh so, Juan?" Lucrezia asked at once, both suspicious and intrigued.

Juan crossed his arms over his unbuttoned doublet and smirked. "Have you never thought to ask your dearest brother how your dear blackamoor died?"

"_Djem_?" the fair lady questioned and her frown ten-folded as she walked around the crib towards her brother. As she stood closer to Juan than Cesare, Lucrezia seemed stuck in the middle of something she did not fully comprehend yet. "He fell ill with swamp fever, did he not? The details have grown hazy to me over the years, but he was sick. I remember that."

"Sick?" Juan questioned maliciously. "Try _poisoned_."

There was a pause in which both brothers watched their sister's face fall in recognition of the truth. A haunted expression crossed her fair features and evaporated any trace of joy. Neither man could read the full depths of the storm that raged within her pensive eyes, but Juan could read enough to know she was reaching new conclusions every second.

"By…?" her voice was frail and low as it trailed off into nothingness.

"Not by me," Cesare hastened to clarify as he stepped towards his sister, who in turn stepped back from his protective arms. The eldest brother faltered and came to a halt in the middle of the chamber, a place where it seemed he always lingered these days. In between faith and blasphemy, light and dark, truth and lie.

"Do not pretend to be innocent in this, Cesare," Juan pushed on and could do little to contain his glee as he walked forward and stopped close behind his sister. "Your _professional_ helped us, after all."

The deep, dark eyes of Cesare burned with a fire as they glared at Juan. The eldest brother raised his hand and pointed accusingly at the other man. "I did not kill Djem. _You_ killed him."

Lucrezia's voice once more interrupted her brother's argument as she gazed up at the brother behind her. "But why?"

"Tell me not that you are so clueless?" Juan asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched the spectacle before him. "You must know why."

A light faded in his sister's eyes and her posture slumped somewhat as she acknowledged what went unsaid. "So the rumors of the time were correct. It was for my dowry… How much?"

"40 000 ducats," Juan explained coldly. "It was by father's order, of course."

Lucrezia closed her eyes tight, as if doing so meant she could avoid the truth. As she shook her head slightly, the last remnants of disbelief was washed away by the knowledge she could not ignore. "I find it hard to believe my own brothers would kill someone I cared for deeply..."

"I did not want Djem to be killed, because I knew you loved him. I did not want to harm your feelings," Cesare tried to defend himself but as his words faded into the shadows, Juan knew he had won this small battle. Too much time had passed since the moor's death to properly defend the situation. No matter how he tried, Cesare would not be able to turn the situation into something positive.

"And yet Djem is dead," the middle brother spoke and thus hammered the final nail in the coffin.

"Will you leave us already?" Cesare growled and crossed the room in two long strides. He grabbed hold of Juan's arm and unkindly shoved him towards the open door. Despite the pain his brother inflicted, Juan could not help but grin as he was pushed outside. Even as Cesare moved to close the door, did the grin grow upon his thin lips. The elder brother sighed as he breathed low enough to not be overheard by their sister, "Is your quarrel with me not enough? You could have left Lucrezia out of our living nightmare."

As soon as he was done, Cesare closed the door in his brother's face. Juan pondered whether or not to remain behind and listen to his brother's desperate attempts to earn forgiveness but in the end he decided not to stay. He knew his sister well enough to realize that whether it came tonight or tomorrow, her forgiveness towards Cesare would not wait long. Juan had no desire to hear it spoken so soon.

"Goodnight!" he called loudly instead at the closed doors before he turned on his heel and walked away down the corridor.

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_Thank you for your attention and for reading this chapter!_

_More chapters to come!_


	13. Lucrezia Contra Mundum

_A/N: I've been planning this chapter for quite some time, but have been debating with myself how exactly to approach it (especially with regards to Lucrezia's direction, which the show left quite open-ended I think). This chapter takes place after the series finale, and, indeed, I'm planning a few more chapters on 'the future' after season 3 ended._

_So, what happened? Neil Jordan and Showtime published "The Borgia Apocalypse" today, the e-book version of Jordan's script for his intended 2-hour movie to conclude the series. I've read it, and am quite disappointed with most parts._

_Therefore, I've decided to ignore Jordan's conclusion, in order to focus on my own version. Of course, some things were well done in Jordan's script and these also similar to my view on the whole matter. Similar, but different. It's highly possible then that I'll 'borrow' some details of the e-book to fill out future chapters. _

_Either way, whether you like Jordan's ending or not, I hope this is still satisfying, how little it may offer of conclusion, foreshadowing and insight into some very troubled Borgias._

_Spoilers: 3x10, Apocalypse(?), chapter 8 of this story_

* * *

**Lucrezia Contra Mundum**

After Alfonso's sudden passing, Lucrezia chose to take refuge for a while in a small convent in northern Italy. She had needed time to clear her clouded mind and heart, which both battled for control in her weary body.

She had expected the worst blow to be her husband's demise, but had within days of his death come to realize the error of her beliefs. So overwhelmed by emotions and despair of its aftermath, she had seen no other choice then to flee.

Rome had, by the end, not felt like any kind of home, at all. The one place on Earth where she had ever felt safe and protected had lost its magic touch. Even the people closest to her had seemed like strangers. Perhaps her own wickedness had tainted the whole city just as much as the rest of her family had done. It was the blood of the Borgia enemies which washed over the Vatican that had seemed so clear to Lucrezia's watchful eyes. She had heard the screams of their despair echo in her head along with the last words of her husband.

"_I know you have the means to end this agony. So if you ever loved me, you will do me this one last favor."_

_"I cannot."_

"_Yes, you can. You're a Borgia."_

Alfonso had summed up her existence so easily; it had surprised Lucrezia in more ways than she dared admit aloud, let alone to herself. Her carefree childhood, her secret pregnancy, her love affairs with Paolo and Raffaelo, her unholy relationship with Cesare… Her entire being was boiled down into one single, defining word; _Borgia_.

Once she had loved that name. Once it had been coupled with righteous power, ambition and divinity. Now, she knew the reality of what it stood for, and it frightened her to be identified as such.

This recognition and fear for what the future now held for her had made her seek out an unlikely friend and ally where no others existed. Micheletto had come when she had beckoned and stepped out of the long, endless shadows for her and only her. Micheletto had promised to take her safely from Rome to the convent, while she had promised to keep his involvement and whereabouts a secret from Cesare.

After everything she had picked up about the deep bond between Cesare and Micheletto, Lucrezia still felt ensured she could trust the red-haired, scarred man with her life and secrets.

Despite this knowledge, the Borgia was not surprised when one late evening in her new safe haven, she had seen the familiar red hair gleam like fire under the warm glow of the lanterns. The assassin had easily slipped through one shadow to another in the back of the impressive, stone chambers, avoiding the attention of all the nuns.

As the soft voices of the nuns floated further and further away from her, Lucrezia knelt down before the simple altar and gazed up at the crucified man on the cross. She tugged on the simply clothes of the convent as she saw the man come to hide behind one of the pillars on her right hand side. With the other nuns far away, the lady was otherwise by herself by the altar, as she much preferred it.

She pressed her ivory palms together as she kept her voice low and collected, "So he knows I am here then."

"Milady…" Micheletto began with a voice that asked for her forgiveness. When no other words followed, the Borgia decided not to wait the inevitable.

"Is your friendship mended?" she was curious to know.

There was silence for a second, and Lucrezia needed no better answer than this hollowness. The man eventually explained, "It will take time to repair the wounds inflicted by your brother. Time I am willing to spend… I swear, I have not told him what convent you are hiding in."

"But he knew I was in a convent…"

"You are in danger, milady," the assassin said and his whisper echoed in the deep around her, leaving her cold and barren on the inside.

With a sigh, Lucrezia rose from her position in prayer but still refused to turn towards the man hidden in the dark. "I am a Borgia… I thought I _was_ the danger."

Micheletto's face came into the light and he waited until she turned her gaze to meet his until he voiced his disagreement, "You are not your brother or father; you are a victim of your blood ties. At least you will be, until you control your own future and besiege the beastly name. For now, your brother sent me to retrieve you to safety. Please, come. We have not much time."

"Am I not in a _convent_, a house of God? Should I not be safe _here_?" Lucrezia asked bitterly and felt tears sting her eyes like a deceptive fire. It was all so unfair. Truthfully, she was hardly certain she had been given enough time, as it was, to stitch together the pieces of her broken soul.

Micheletto once more waited until he had her undivided attention. "You live in the Pope's palace in the Vatican. If you are not safe there, why would you be in _this_ house of God?"

* * *

The two of them rode hard and long through the chilly night, through the silent woods where there was no refuge to be found. Under the stars and the moon's watchful gaze, the world lay silent and asleep.

The closer she rode to Rome, the more Lucrezia felt her strength return ten-fold. She'd been worried she'd had too little time to gather herself, but it seemed it had been just enough. Her mind was clearer and her heart harder as she followed Micheletto through the gates of the city and up to one of the hidden back-entrances to the Vatican palaces.

The lady dismounted gracefully and wrapped her long, crimson cloak closer around her slim body, to hide the dark dress of the convent beneath. Conveniently, there were no guards around as far as Lucrezia could see and she was not surprised at the attention to details her brother had considered just for her. Surely no one knew of her return except Cesare and his most loyal man.

"Milady…" Micheletto's gruff whisper drew her back, and the fair lady turned. The red-haired man hesitated a beat before he boldly met her pale eyes and spoke, "You are the strongest Borgia I know. Stronger than your brother even. Your husband's death was a grave set-back, but surely one you can adapt to. I do think you will come out victorious, Lucrezia Borgia."

The Borgia woman smiled warmly up at the kind man. "My brother seems to believe so, also."

"What do you believe, milady?"

* * *

As Lucrezia walked up the simple steps, she saw the unmistakable profile of her brother awaiting her on the balcony above. His strong, handsome face was mostly cast in shadows, but she still read his worry and determination as if she was seeing him in the light of day.

She reached the balcony on quiet, timid feet and stepped past a few lanterns and flowers until she came to a halt a few steps behind the man she loved above all others. He was dressed in a casual, pale shirt and wore leather pants, showing no indication of being prepared for bed or a good night's rest. He'd clearly awaited her arrival on anxious legs and Lucrezia understood that whatever unnamed threat there had been against her, it had been far greater than Micheletto had been willing to admit.

A few lone fireflies flew around the man's long, curly hair as he remained with his back towards her. A horse neighed below and Lucrezia heard Micheletto taking the animals to the stables. As the sounds died out in the distance, the lady waited patiently for her brother to speak first.

She had not seen him in over two weeks now, and that last time had been but days after Alfonso's death. He had declared to her then that they'd been in the middle of very faithful days, and that _everything_ hanged in the balance. What exactly had transpired during the last fortnight remained a mystery to Lucrezia, and she wasn't certain she wanted to know the full truth either.

The minutes ticked by without Cesare Borgia opening his mouth. His frame remained stiff and almost ghost like as he stood beneath the pale moon light, watching the sleeping city in the distance.

Lucrezia sighed as she raised her gaze to the moon on its heavenly throne. For the first time in a long while, with the moon above and her brother before her, she felt like herself in a fleeting moment. Not evil, nor weak… Simply someone she had once been and who she wanted to become once more.

At length, the hoarse whisper of her brother interrupted her far-off thoughts, "You said we would be together forever."

The fair lady gazed up at the back of Cesare's head, as she spoke in a strong voice, "I meant it."

With a deep sigh, the tall man turned around and leaned against the balustrade as his dark gaze met hers with a burning passion. "Then you secretly left for a convent in the middle of the night, telling no one where you went. All you left was a mystifying letter to mother."

Lucrezia knew her actions perplexed the man, but she also knew she didn't have to explain herself to him. His actions, after all, had been the reason for hers. Still, she could not stop the words that fell from her full lips, "I had to get away. I was fine the first day after Alfonso's death, I think… But then the walls started to fall down over me. I needed air to breathe, and I could fine none here in Rome. I needed peace of mind… but could find none in your presence."

"Will you abandon me, sis? Do you love me no longer?" his voice broke slightly as he acknowledged his worst fear.

"No…"

She saw how Cesare once more stiffened before her, as if slapped hard by her hesitance and left bare for the oncoming pain. Lucrezia's long locks flowed around her as she shook her head fervently and stepped forward. Drawn to him without explanation, she could not bear to see him suffer as she had. She gripped his calloused hand tightly and pressed it against her lips as she explained, "I could never stop loving you, Cesare. I will never love anyone as I have always and _will always_ love you."

The man sniffled quietly as he raised his hand to tenderly cup her cheek. He watched her as if he had never seen her before, or come close to never getting the chance to see her again. "You should not have to escape from me to reach peace…"

"As I once said, I still believe God is in the room with us when we are together, Cesare," she hummed as he caressed her cheek and closed her eyes in contentment. "There can be no peace with such an overwhelming love between us. _You and I _will never have harmony."

"Have my actions cursed our love then?"

"You still do not understand," Lucrezia breathed and stepped away from the man's safe embrace. She leaned against the balustrade by his side and gazed up at the shining stars in the skies above. They all twinkled with knowledge she would never share with them, but still felt some connection and comfort by their constant presence.

"It was my hand that in the end killed my husband. I am not blameless. Nothing will ever wash that Cain's mark from my bloodied hands. I am not the same person anymore… and I needed time to realize who I will be now. I don't think I've fully understood it yet, but my time in the convent helped me on my way. I am not as broken and desolate anymore." With a small smile, she wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and stepped close once more. "Being back in your arms has only helped my heart grow cheerful again. You may be my poison, but you will also be my antidote."

Cesare's face at last erupted in a genuine, relieved smile that washed away any trace of cruelty and self-loathing. With a good-humored breath, he reached for the knot of her cloak. "Let me see you."

The fine, heavy material fell silently to the floor of the balcony as the man's eyes was drawn to the dress below.

"A nun," he hummed as he reached a hand out to trace a vague pattern along her neck and down the dark fabric on her shoulder. "Would you have done as I did, sis; joined the church only to leave it behind when you discovered it lacked fulfillment?"

"I never took the cloth, brother," she reminded the man as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled back far enough to gaze into her eyes and smiled, "And you are still more a saint than I, who did."

"I am not a saint," Lucrezia disagreed and a fire burned both in her eyes and throat as she held her brother close. "I am a _Borgia_. A name synonymous with nothing of kindness or God. The name sings of the Devil and the flames of hell. The whole world knows it."

"You may not be a saint any longer, Lucrezia," the man reluctantly agreed. "But you are not evil, sis."

"Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not," the lady huffed and pulled her lip into a tight line as she pondered her next words carefully. She wanted to convey her hopes and despairs of the future sure to come. Whatever lay ahead was both perilous and intriguing. As long as she played her hand right, she could be happy once more. "It does not truly matter. I have but this life to prove our family is just and rightful in how we act in certain aspects. I will change people's perception of the name Borgia. When they think of Lucrezia Borgia, they will not think of damnation and hell. I will save our name, even if you and father drag it through the fires of hell and back again. And I will do my best to keep you by my side."

Cesare listened to her with a soft smile lingering on the corner of his lips. As she finished he sighed and slowly leaned down to press his forehead against hers. "I'll be here, by your side, now that I'm allowed near you again. And I do believe that if anyone's ambition will save the name of Borgia, it will be yours."

* * *

_I hope this chapter was adequate! I'm planning a few more chapters to shine light on what should have happened after season 3! I also plan to write more for Juan again!_


	14. Midnight Enmity

_A/N: This chapter takes place between Lucrezia and Juan right after Lucrezia sexed up Raffaelo in season 2. I so wish we could have seen a few more scenes between David Oakes and Holliday Grainger. They, too, had such great chemistry and, I think, brought out new sides in each other._

_Spoilers: 2x08_

* * *

**Midnight Enmity**

His leg throbbed with each step and every time his foot touched the ground it felt as if a thousand swords pierced his already mangled limb over and over. Still, for all the pain he felt, it was still a numb sensation in comparison to what he had to endure under the sun's warming rays. In the night, he could at least turn to the opium lair his doctor had found for him. Of course, being a Borgia and the favored son of the Pope, Juan always had to thread in secrecy during his nightly visits outside the Vatican.

Now, as he limped back home through the gardens of the palace, the man tried to ignore the harsh reality that would await him with the rising sun. Not only did he have to face other bodily diseases, but there was also the small matter of his recent failure. Juan had already seen his elder brother's sadistically amused looks over the failed siege of Forli. It was evident in Cesare's dark eyes that he had more knowledge of what had transpired than he had admitted to his brother.

It was true; Juan had failed with his mission, but only because of his brother's cold and cruel deception. Cesare had known about the ambush yet had sent no message to aid his brother. Out there on the battle field, Juan had done everything in his power to stay on top of the game, but it seemed none of his efforts counted as far as his family was concerned. Therefore, he tried to stay away from their judgmental gazes as best as he could. Everyone but his father's warm gaze, which still looked upon him with both love and compassion.

With his heavy leg, Juan slowly made it to one of the majestic gates and pushed it open. The wood creaked slightly beneath his touch, but it was not the only sound that caught his ear in that moment.

Somewhere inside, he heard the sound of a siren's giggle, an angel's laughter that he recognized only too well. The man quickened his steps as he rounded a corner and further away, illuminated by the warm glow of the candles, he saw none other than his baby sister. Clad in nothing but a red cloak and a pale nightgown with her hair loose and curly around her slim shoulders, Juan found his interest peak at the flush that spread across Lucrezia's cheeks as she saw her brother. It was certainly pure luck that no servants were around to see her scantily clad form and start a gossip that would devour the woman's sweetness.

"Well, well…What is this?" the Borgia man drawled as he limped close to his sister who stood hidden in the shadow of a stone pillar by the silent stair case. As he came face to face with her, the smile vanished from her childish features and turned into a statuesque coldness. "It is my sister… sneaking around in the middle of the night... _all by herself_."

Lucrezia raised her chin defiantly as her eyes bore down on her brother. If she was ashamed at all over her state or the obvious lack of recent company, she hid it like a true master, "Where have you been, Juan?"

"The question, dearest sister, is where might _you_ have been this late hour?" the Borgia man leaned heavily against his cane and his face lingered in the air mere inches away from his sister's.

She hissed like a snake in the Garden of Eden, "It is none of your concern, brother."

The man sighed as he stood tall once more. He could see his sister's deception so easily in her clear eyes, for she did very little to hide it from his inquiring gaze. It seemed she truly did not care what he thought of her late night activity. The snake in paradise, indeed. With an impassive voice, Juan could not help but investigate the matter further, "I disagree. It concerns _family_. ... Speaking of which, I had heard you are quite reluctant to remarry, even for the good of our family. Is it because you have taken a new lover, sis? Now, who might we know that sleeps alone in this part of the palace?"

Of course, they both knew whose room was only a few corridors away. Still, Juan preferred to merely hint at the suspicion that long had ruled within his mind. He wanted to see how his sister would act now, faced with a possible, incestuous charge.

Whether or not she understood what went unsaid, Lucrezia sidestepped his attempts and snarled, "Save yourself the effort of thinking, brother. I'm sure all your thoughts are preoccupied with upholding your valor as it is. But if you must get involved with these matters you should know that I have recently decided to accept Lord Calvino Pallavicini's marriage offer."

Juan frowned in displeased confusion. "Oh? Is that so? When will this be accepted?"

"The proposal will occur officially tomorrow before lunch, as you are aware," the beauty explained. "You are, after all, to attend with the rest of my family and the College of Cardinals."

The brother sighed as his eyes wandered. "Cannot Cesare attend in my place?"

"Our brother has business in Florence, as you are most aware," Lucrezia's voice was low and sharp. For a second, Juan wondered if his former hint had struck a chord after all, but she played her cards so brilliantly that he could not read her this time. Had he been born as Cesare, he would have reached the end of the trail she kept so well hidden without much effort. Alas, he was born as Juan Borgia, and could but read what she allowed him to see.

"Does it hurt?"

Juan gazed down at his attractive sister in dazed confusion for a second. He'd chased the loose ends in his mind and been utterly unprepared for her change of topic. With some traces of opium still lingering on the edges of his conscious, he struggled to keep up. "What hurts?"

"Your _war injury…_ Or your _ego_," she said and a haughty smile spread across her full lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Juan was not surprised at all to realize she was updated about the military endeavor which had gone so awry. In her eyes shone the same sadistic amusement that had shone in their brother's dark eyes. "You choose."

"The leg is killing me, quite literally," he admitted grumpily and turned towards the stairs prepared to ascend. He surprised himself with the honesty of his words, but a part of him was too tired to play either proud or invincible all the sudden. "It tires me, but does not let me rest."

As he raised his good foot to walk onward, he was surprised to feel Lucrezia's warm body suddenly move close to his and one of her arms came around his waist while the other placed his arm around her small shoulders.

"What's this?" Juan asked as he gazed down at his sibling. Had she been one of the servants, he would have scolded her harshly for assuming he needed aid. Now it was Lucrezia Borgia, his once so beloved sister, and it surprised all wit out of his worn body.

"It is a sister helping her crippled brother up the stairs," Lucrezia spoke and though her actions were kind, the smile on her lips was quite the opposite. Without another word, the two thus began to slowly ascend the stair case in a pace that still stung Juan's leg most horribly.

Through clenched teeth, the man managed to breathe, "Will you help me up… only to send me down these steps, sister? Send me to an early grave?"

Lucrezia's reply was rapt as she turned sideways to meet his distrustful glare, "Can there be an early grave for he whom already walks on borrowed time?"

"So… you do wish me dead?"

Evasively, his sister's soft voice echoed in the shadows around them, "Father has forbidden discord between his sons."

"But he has said nothing of discord between his daughter and his son," Juan snarled as he tried to bite back his cries of agony.

"Indeed, he has not," the fair lady said as the two of them at last reached the top of the stair case.

Juan pushed away from his sister and leaned against a stone balustrade as he tried to calm his mind and aching leg. As he focused all his strength on the task, he tiredly spoke, "Much has changed between us, sis. You think me evil, I know. But I am not. I merely defend this family with my heart and soul, Lucrezia."

The blonde woman stepped close to him and her eyes shone like ice as they bore into his. Her voice, too, was bitter and strange as she remarked, "_As do I_."

The man snorted in amusement and pushed away from the balustrade to come even closer to the woman before him. "Then perhaps we are not so different, you and I."

With a sad smile, Lucrezia shook her head and her long locks glimmered in the candle light. "But we are, Juan."

"My darling sister," Juan mused as he briefly pressed his lips to Lucrezia's full ones. The kiss was cold and distant, as their relationship had grown over the years. "How I could have loved you if only you had been born not to love Cesare."

"My brother," Lucrezia mimicked mockingly and pinched his bearded chin. "How I could have loved you if were born anyone but yourself."

With those parting words, the Spanish blonde slipped away from her brother and into the shadows of the corridor ahead. Juan watched as she disappeared out of sight around a corner. The man remained in his solitude a second before he, too, turned and limped towards his own chambers.

* * *

_More chapters to come, I hope! I also hope you enjoyed this piece!_


	15. Secrets Are Things We Grow

_A/N: I wanted with this chapter to try and bring some more historical accuracy into the game, but I'm not sure entirely how I managed it. I'm no expert on the time frame of the Borgia lives. Also, considering the many liberties taken by the show it will always be impossible to make these chapters exact. I did have to take some liberties with birth dates, I admit as much._

_Mainly, I suppose, I wanted to suggest a slower time frame than that presented in 'The Borgia Apocalypse' by Neil Jordan. __Consider it a part of a "fourth season" had there been one. I would have wanted to see Cesare's conquests and struggles over the short, fateful years that would have been the issue of a fourth season. Now, this chapter merely eludes to things to come so this is more of a filler than an actual conquest. I am planning on exploring these uncharted territories, but wanted to lay good foundation first._

_Spoilers: Season 3, _

* * *

**Secrets Are Things We Grow**

Cesare Borgia stood tall on the balcony of his mother's palace and gazed out at the city of Rome below him. Though the sounds of the markets and the church could be heard even up to his lofty location, he was more than pleased that the smells of the streets did not accompany it.

As he sipped from his wine, his mind wandered to all of his current ventures. There was a heavy burden upon the scales of fate, and Cesare hoped the scale would remain balanced rather than tip one way or the other. Six months had passed since the death of his brother-in-law and much had happened since to shape the Borgia's fortune.

Caterina Sforza remained in her shackles in the Castel Sant'Angelo, where she remained a true tigress despite being close to starvation and constant fatigue. The Borgia man sometimes visited the former Lady of Forli but not even in those meetings did she allow her knees to bend before the glory of Rome. It seemed it would not matter what evil he did to her, and so the Borgia had opted to wait her out. He was still certain every tiger loses its stripes if given no other option to free themselves by, even a tigress as forceful and stubborn as Caterina.

Meanwhile, the French king remained in Italy with his army and his sight set firm upon conquering the small kingdom of Naples, still ruled by the devious King Frederigo. To keep the French busy, Cesare had made sure the news of the planned invasion had reached the long reaching ears of Spain, who had no intention on losing Naples willingly to French influence. Thus, Charles XII and his army could not take the small kingdom without the help of the Borgias intervention and so remained occupied in the Gonfalonier's reaches, dancing like puppets in his masterly show.

Cesare had grown his own secrets in the shadows and now they had become so vast that they threatened to conceal the sun's rays when revaled. He planned to start his ascension by conquering the entire Romagna and make it the first gem of his future kingdom. With Imolda and Forli fallen already, the Borgia was certain he and his condotierri soon would make the rest follow suit.

As he smiled to himself and sipped more from his cup of red wine, the handsome man could not help but wonder if he was so blessed that he would soon feel the lips of Lady Fortuna graze his cheeks. Surely it was already in his cards and a few small victories glimmered bright on the eastern horizon for him.

"Why are you smiling so, Cesare?"

The Borgia man turned his head lazily to gaze behind him at the two figures in the doorway to his solitary haven. There, illuminated by the warm candles and both clad in fine fabrics, stood Rodrigo and Vanozza. He seldom saw his parents these days, and even more seldom in the same, private party. Now they moved together in the warm afternoon to join their eldest son for a glass of Spanish wine.

As his father poured the liquid for himself and the Spanish beauty, Cesare turned fully to face them both. With a flawless mask he hid his true thoughts with a bright, warm smile and raised his cup in a salute. "I have had news from France today. My wife is expecting and I may within months call myself a father."

"Oh, Cesare," Vanozza smiled and kissed her son's cheeks with tenderness before she stepped back to behold him with clever eyes. "You must send our love and best wishes to Charlotte d'Albret in her trialing months to come. The first child is always the hardest, for both the mother _and_ the father."

Rodrigo's heavy hand came to rest on his son's broad shoulder as he nodded with dim pride. He toasted with Cesare's cup and sipped once before he said, "I congratulate you most heartily, son. You shall raise a young king or queen who shall ascend to the heavens, if we make it so."

Cesare smirked into his cup of wine as he beheld his parent's honest happiness for him. It was not often their family shared a joy which was innocent instead of founded on lies or deceits. With a masked smirk, the Borgia man spoke, "And it will be another grandchild for you, Holy Father."

The Pope hummed in agreement as he leaned against the balustrade beside his son. "Now all of my children, with the exception of Gioffre, will have delivered small joys to my life which I'm forever indebted for. Tell me, how much longer before your French bride delivers your child to our blessed world?"

"I am told it will be before the peak of summer."

"Then she will give birth before Lucrezia welcomes her second born," Vanozza pointed out after quickly doing the math in her head. With an impassive voice that outwitted her sparkling, dark eyes, the fair lady continued, "Is it not a benediction that our most unfortunate Alfonso left her with such a gift when he was torn from this Earth, Cesare? A child to remind her of a loving husband."

Cesare could but smile down at the woman who had given birth to him once. He knew, though he had never himself admitted the truth to the woman before him, that she had guessed the truth to how Alfonso had met his demise. It was also no secret to him how she despised her son's deeds and thought them unnecessary cold. "Yes, mother."

Rodrigo turned to face his former mistress and bastard son as he, too, gleamed with unabashed happiness. His long, red mantle flowed around his legs as he moved and he stood all the taller and regal as the joy grew upon his aging features. It seemed he was hell bent on ignoring the bitter, unsaid words between his family members as he instead spoke in a rumbling, boisterous voice, "And at last a child within wedlock for our daughter. It seems God has taken a special liking to our children, Vanozza, to bless them thus."

With a chuckle, the young Gonfalonier drank from his wine and pondered how best to reply to such a remark.

His sister had for a brief while after her husband's death concealed herself from prying eyes in a convent. She had hoped to escape her name and her fate, but had managed neither feat. Instead she had returned to Rome and soon adapted to the inevitable future that awaited her by her brother's side. With a burning passion she had chosen Cesare and his love, and though he could never earn her forgiveness, he knew he could never lose her love either. Certain the child within her growing womb played a central part in her acceptance, Cesare knew he counted himself blessed to have Lucrezia once more by his side. It would take the end of the world to tear her from his side now.

The young Borgia man pulled his thoughts from his beloved sister with much effort and faced his mother and father again. With a sly grin, he breathed, "Our children will be blessings born of the Borgia blood."

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


	16. Smile

_A/N: I think that before there was constant discord between the siblings, there was something akin to love between them. Before the madness of the Vatican and their father's ambition began to rule their lives and change them, I imagine they were quite happy together as innocent children._

_In this chapter, I explore some of Juan's guilt with regards to Djem's death and his sister's grief. I do believe he felt some regret in regards to Lucrezia's pain, though, of course, without being able to admit to his own crime. I think the siblings truly began to drift apart after Djem died and this explores the middle ground before a final split._

_It's funny, though. I had actually planned on more Juan/Cesare chapters, but I seem to be stuck on the Lucrezia/Juan story lines. I suppose there was just more there that went undiscovered on the show. _

_Spoilers: 1x03, start of 1x04_

* * *

**Smile**

Seated on top of her large, beautiful bed in her private chambers, Lucrezia Borgia held an interesting book with words of old in her hands, yet her gaze was directed inwards. In her mind dwelled but fond memories and thoughts of her dear friend, Djem, whom had but recently, and quite unexpectedly, departed their world for the afterworld. He was not a Christian, so Lucrezia was uncertain what his belief was in regards to an afterlife, but she still prayed that God was graceful enough to grant the moor peace, wherever he may be.

Her eldest brother had said the moor had died from swamp fever and even the Spanish girl had burned as if on fire. Her heart, more than anything, had been ill since his sudden parting. No words of encouragement had managed to lift her spirits from the depths, and she had briefly feared that a disease had festered within her soul as if accompanied by the Devil himself.

The first few days after the death, Lucrezia's skin had turned paler than usual and she had all but lost her appetite for food and life. It was the first death of someone close to her heart that the Borgia girl had encountered in her short life, but something in her head told her it would not be the last. Still, three days had passed since, and she was beginning to recover her strength of both body and mind.

As she sat lost in thought, she did not hear the door open beside her nor the throat that loudly cleared to announce its presence. It was not until a soft voice cut through the air that she jumped startled and turned to face her surprise company.

"Sister…" Juan simply called from the open door way. He was clad in a deep red, embroidered doublet and his shoulder length hair hung straight around his fair face. In his hazel eyes shone something doubtful which Lucrezia had never seen in his features before. Whatever it was, it seemed to keep him by the door rather than entering her bedroom. He stood as if on edge, as if a stranger, and though he stretched tall, he seemed small and young in his sister's eyes.

When he spoke no further, Lucrezia wet her dry lips and discarded the book on the golden covers beside her. Her voice was raspy, almost like it had never been used before, when she breathed, "Brother?"

As if drawn from whatever stupor he'd been in, her elder brother sighed and recollected himself with visible difficulty. "I have come to ask of your health. Are you still unwell? Mother and father worry so for you."

The girl exhaled in amusement and raised a pale eyebrow. "And you do not?"

Juan immediately jumped further into her room as he passionately defended his heart, "Of course I do, Lucrezia. Will you tell me how you feel?... _Please?_"

With mild hesitation, the blonde replied to his request, "I am better. I still feel pain, but mother has assured me that such illness will fade in time."

A look of distress seemed to pass through her brother's eyes before they clouded over into something Lucrezia could not read. He lowered his gaze and struggled to find his voice for a moment, before he managed to ask, "So you did care for him… for Djem?"

"How could I not?" Lucrezia countered with a slight frown. "He was always sweet to me, as he was to _you_. Do you not also miss his friendship?"

The room fell into silence as Juan processed her words with a contemplative look upon his brow. Neither agreeing nor denying her blatant question, the handsome man asked one of his own, "… Do you care for me also, Lucrezia?"

Taken aback by the sudden turn in their conversation, the girl blinked up at her brother in silence for a second. Just as the clouds began to disapparate in the windows to his soul, where something akin to pain flashed by, Lucrezia's response echoed clear above the silence, "What a peculiar question. You are my brother, Juan. Of course I love you."

A grin passed briefly on the edge of the man's lips as he nodded in acceptance. He seemed somewhat calmed by her response, though there was no peace on his features still. "Like you love our older brother?"

"Well, no, I love none like I love Cesare."

Juan chuckled. "I had not thought otherwise." With more confidence, the young man stepped further into the room and around the bed. He sat down on the covers beside her and placed one of his calloused hands atop of her smaller ones. "And yet our dear brother could not pull you from your misery."

"Cesare says grief needs time," Lucrezia countered as she pulled her hand loose and then crossed her arms over her chest in defiance of his statement. "He did not attempt to pull me out of here at all. He worries for me, I know, but he will not make me do anything I am not ready for yet."

Juan raised his own arms as if to signal his peace and a hesitant smile grazed his features. "I'm not here to force you in anyway, sis... Quite the opposite in fact. I would see you smile once more. I have taken it upon myself to find entertainment for your wedding feast."

"You need not take any responsibility for it, Juan," the girl said as she was once more mystified by her brother's actions. "There are others who would gladly do the work."

"True. Yet… I would still see you smile," he replied cryptically. "It would be an honor to help."

With a tired breath, Lucrezia attempted to read her elder brother one last time but still to no avail. His true intentions remained a mystery to her behind his gleaming façade of brotherly affection. It was a face she had not seen him wear often since their father's elevation to Pope, but one she remembered well from younger, more carefree years.

"You did always have an eye for entertainment," she whispered at length and a slight grin spread on the corners of her full lips as other, happier childhood memories chased those of Djem within her weary mind.

Relief of being accepted shone evident in the man's eyes as his smile widened upon his youthful face. Whatever traces of hesitation had been present upon his entrance, seemed to have evaporated, at least for the present time. "Then I will do my best."

"I am sure it will be to everybody's liking," the girl nodded as Juan gently squeezed her shoulder and then stood from the bed.

She watched as he retraced his steps and once more came to a halt by the open door. He paused there for a beat, before he slowly turned back to her. "Will we see you outside this room today perhaps, Lucrezia?"

The blonde nodded as she rested her graceful hands in her lap. "I am to have my wedding gown fitted with Donna Giulia later today. There is but little time left now before the big day..."

"Good..." Juan nodded to himself and released a breath from somewhere within the depths of his chest. "Oh, and, sis?"

"Mm? Yes, brother?"

Silence lingered a moment, before his hoarse voice rang clear in the morning air, "Cesare is not the only one looking after you. No matter what happens, I will always protect you and your interests, Lucrezia. Never forget that."

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed this short piece!_


	17. O Children

_A/N: I'm sorry it's been awhile since my last update. I've been uninspired and busy with real life. I have several ideas for more chapters, but need to start re-watching the series to make it justice. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this short piece which takes place early on in the series, in the more innocent days of Cesare and Lucrezia's lives. I'm not abandoning this work, but I'm going to be quite uneven when it comes to updates, I'm afraid._

_This chapter also addresses the historical Cesare Borgia who did have several bastard children running around (and later one daughter within wedlock), something the show never picked up on (despite introducing him as somewhat of a ladies man)._

_Title (not story) inspired by the great song 'O Children' sung by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds._

_Spoilers: 1x01-02 (no particular event)_

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**O Children**

Standing in the alcove of one of the chambers in the Pope's quarters, Cesare gazed at his father across from him in the intricately detailed room. Wearing the black robe of a cleric, the young Borgia uncomfortable shifted from one foot to the other. The robes of God had never fitted him, no matter what Juan said to tease him otherwise. If the decision had been his own, he would discard the robes forever and never regret the choice. Alas, the choice was _not_ his own, but rather that of the man opposite from him.

Rodrigo Borgia was seated in the small throne-like chair behind his desk with eyes closed and lips pursed as if deep in contemplation with God himself. The newly elected Pope… Cesare could hardly believe it, yet knowing how much he had done to see it come to pass, the truth was not so curious to him, after all.

The silver-haired man suddenly opened his eyes and his dark gaze landed on his eldest son across from him. With an appreciative grin he waved the young man closer.

"Do not think we are ungrateful, son," the Pope began and Cesare tried not to cringe from the use of the word 'we'. He had not yet grown accustomed to his father referring to himself as one with the Lord. "We know what you have done for us, what you are sure to do in the future. We will find ways to repay you."

Cesare smiled but remained in his position in the alcove as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, Holy Father."

The old man opened his mouth to continue when suddenly the door to the chamber was opened and the young, lithe Lucrezia ran inside. She swept in like a summer breeze and basically danced all the way over to her beloved father. Juan Borgia had followed her, but remained in the open doorway, gazing ahead at his young sister with something akin to amusement in his pale eyes.

"Father," Lucrezia smiled and leaned down to peck the man's cheek before she danced over towards her eldest brother. As she swirled her long, blonde locks danced like amber in the fall. With an ever present innocent twinkle to her eyes, she gazed up at the tall man. "Do you like it, Cesare? Donna Giulia has taught me the steps."

Amazed by the breath of life she delivered with her mere existence, Cesare nodded and smiled kindly down at her. "I do like it, sis."

"May I practice with you then, brother?" the fair girl asked and jokingly glared back at her other brother. With a fake sulk she frowned at the handsome young man even as he chuckled at her. "Juan won't practice with me."

"I said 'not now', Lucrezia. Not 'not ever'," the brown-haired man defended himself and tried to contain his grin as he glanced between his siblings. "I have to share a word with father now."

"In that case," the blonde girl grabbed hold of her brother's hand and started to gently pull him towards the exit. "I shall remove Cesare from this room so you may converse in peace."

With a final chuckle, the eldest boy willingly followed the girl and closed the door behind him as the two of them left Juan and Rodrigo to escape into their own, private world. Lucrezia basically skipped about him, humming a tune she'd recently learned to play as she pulled him towards the grand ball room at the heart of the Vatican. The room was empty now, apart from one or two servants who were busy doing their chores and paid the two Borgias very little heed.

"Come, brother, dance with me," the young girl begged as she pulled them both to a halt on the middle of the floor. "Giulia says that if I am to be married off someday soon, I must have plenty of practice dancing."

The elder boy refrained from commenting on what he was sure had been meant as another form of dancing. Instead he willingly bowed before her and held out his palm for her smaller one. Her pale hand took his gracefully and together the two begun to dance around each other. As the two stepped around each other in a circle, Lucrezia could not help but beam up at her brother and eventually released a giggle that seemed to illuminate the world.

"Does this dance come with a laugh now, sister?" Cesare questioned teasingly even as his gaze landed upon her full, happy lips.

"It is just…" the girl gently tugged on the collar of his dark robes as she swirled around him. "A priest dancing in his somber robes… is rather amusing to behold. Don't you agree, brother?"

"I would not know for I cannot behold myself."

"Well, I am certainly glad I can behold it," she beamed and then seemed to ponder something before the amused twinkle returned to her giddy persona, "Of course, you are much more handsome than the other clerics. Especially the Cardinals. I imagine it would look truly amusing to watch Cardinal Piccolomino dance with a young lady."

To this, the elder man had to agree with a chuckle of his own as he pressed his palm against his sister while they danced close together in a circle.

"But, Cesare…?"

Amused, but certainly not surprised, by her energetic stream of questions, the tall, dark-haired man gazed down at his baby sister. "Mm?"

"Since you are handsome, and I have seen those ladies-"

"_Spied_, Lucrezia," Cesare interrupted with a pointed grin. "You have spied them."

The young girl giggled once more and lowered her eyes momentarily before she raised them and gazed intently up at her brother. "I meant to ask you something else. Juan says you have bastard sons all through Rome. And that you even have a few from your time as a scholar in Bologna. He is not telling the truth, is he?"

The Borgia man harrumphed stiffly as he stepped around his sister in the dance. Tiredly he muttered, "If anyone has bastard sons, it would be Juan."

The look on Lucrezia's face was not convinced as the smile disappeared and was replaced by clever intrigue. "So tell me he isn't telling the truth."

"Our brother often speaks nonsense."

"But not always," the girl pointed out. "Sometimes he is wise."

Cesare released an amused breath that lingered in the small space between them. "_Wise_? I don't believe anyone has ever called Juan wise before. You merely say so because you are young."

"I may be young, but you have still not denied our brother's claims," the fair blonde pointed out and all her energy seemed intent on finding answers to her most recent puzzle.

"There is nothing to deny, my love," the man shrugged as he pressed his palm against his sister's smaller, paler one.

Lucrezia hummed gently then and suddenly stepped closer to her brother. She ignored all of her practice and leaned her head against his broad chest as they swayed to an unsung tune. With a content sigh, she breathed, "It pleases me to hear so."

Taken aback by how quickly she had forgotten their literal dance, Cesare slowly embraced his sister as he asked, "Why?"

"For then I still hold your heart without competition," the fourteen-year old spoke and her voice was somewhat muffled against his chest. "I do rather dislike competition, brother."

The older brother chuckled and swept a lock of fair hair from her face. The innocent comment spoken by anyone else would have been perceived as jealousy, but the man knew better. This was Lucrezia Borgia, after all. His own personal angel. "As do I, my love."

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_More to come!_


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